


Our First December

by flipfloppandas



Series: Our Firsts [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Smut, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 42,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipfloppandas/pseuds/flipfloppandas
Summary: 31 drabbles about Goten and Trunks’ winter as a couple. Sequel to 'Our First Summer'.





	1. Thanksgiving Break

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the sequel to Our First Summer that I have also decided to revise. I will try to post an update every day but y’all already know I’m fucked when it comes to schedules. Take comfort in the fact that I will undoubtedly have it all completed by December 31st.
> 
> The original title was 'Our Winter'. I like this one much better.

#1- Thanksgiving Break

Word Count- 1477

* * *

“Knock! Knock! Knock!” Goten yells up to the ceiling, his back pressed against the wooden door. There are people down the hallways pointing and snickering at him. Other’s give him dirty looks before pointedly slamming their doors. Well, you can’t please everyone.

It’s nearly ten seconds later when he hears a loud “ _Shut up_!” coming from the other side of the door, before it violently swings open. He turns and comes face to face with the love of his very life, who is watching him with a very irritated-looking expression.

Goten smiles and leans in, pecking Trunks on his agitated frown. He loves that he can do this with no consequences. Goten could not speak for the whole country, but he was grateful that the other American students on Trunks’ floor seemed, for the most part, indifferent to their relationship. A pleasant culture shock, if you ask him.

“Good morning, babe.” Or at least, it was morning in the states. It was well past his bedtime back home.

Trunks rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you ready to meet my new roommate?” he asks.

“You bet,” he says back brightly. Trunks’ old roommate decided that the ‘whole college thing’ wasn’t working out for him and moved out not too long ago. Conveniently, there had also been another student who needed a new roommate, and moved in with Trunks a few days ago, hence why Goten had yet to meet him.

Goten stepped into the room, only to turn and press his lips briefly to Trunks’ cheek. “So where is he at?”

“Uhh...” came a voice that Goten did not recognize. He turned in the direction it came from and found out that he did not like what he saw.

A young man stood over by the window, looking rather awkward with his arms crossed over his chest. He was tall, with brown skin, and well-defined muscles shown from his sleeveless shirt. His chocolate eyes were bright, his teeth very white, and his long, braided hair framed his strong neck.

This guy was _handsome,_ very much so.

 _‘I’m not jealous. I’m not jealous,'_ Goten chanted to himself. He had thought that he was ready to handle Trunks being in the proximity of attractive males by now, but apparently, he was not. Not that he had much practice; Trunks’ last roommate hadn’t been all that appealing. Stringy blond hair, grungy frame, bloodshot eyes, and a slightly unpleasant smell—just the _thought_ of that dude stealing _his_ Trunks was nearly laughable.

Goten wanted _that_ guy back, and right now.

“This is my new roommate, Tyrese Hill,” Trunks says, oblivious to Goten’s uncertainty.

“Er... Hello?” Tyrese says to Goten, holding out his hand.

Goten sized himself up, took the other guy’s hand, and said confidently, “Herro, Tirisu Hiru.”

A second passed. Then Trunks burst out laughing. Tyrese politely tries to fight it, up he is inevitably overcome as well. Goten is not sure what he did wrong, but his face heats up regardless.

And then, Trunks was speaking English. English words that Goten could not understand. A hodgepodge of mess was being spoken between the two roommates, and Goten could do nothing but watch in envy. He heard “Son Goten” throughout that mess, but that was all. He crossed his arms, and silently stared at the wall in annoyance and repeated his mantra in his head.

Well, he was silent, until Tyrese leaned down a bit, so Trunks could whisper in his ear. Goten—involuntarily—squeaked.

The other males in the room jumped in surprise, before Trunks started laughing again. Goten face flushed again and wondered if this is what tomatoes felt like on a day-to-day basis.

“Goten, you’re worrying,” Trunks says in their language, his arms crossed, and his hip cocked in a way that shouldn’t be cute on a practically grown man.

“I am not,” Goten grumbles.

“You are,” Trunks replies, amusement written all over his face. “But I’m telling you, there is no reason to be worried.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because, Tyrese is straight, and has a girlfriend he’s been dating for almost two years a few floors above us. Her name is Erana Finch and she’s very nice. You two will probably get along.”

Goten’s lips form an ‘O’, before he blushes for the third time in the span of like three minutes.

Goten has exhausted pretty much all of the English in his arsenal, so he offers a sheepish, “ _Gomen_ ,” to Tyrese instead.

Trunks translates for him, and the other boy laughs a bit before nodding in Goten’s direction with a smile.

Trunks walks towards his bed, where his folded clothes and other necessities await. “Let me capsulize my stuff and we can go.”

Goten nods and looks towards the window. The Americans apparently celebrated a holiday known as ‘Thanksgiving’. Goten didn’t particularly care about the holiday since his family was not partaking in it (which is unfortunate because apparently it involves a lot of eating and Goten could _definitely_ get down with that), but was thankful for it all the same, since it meant that Trunks would be coming home for a whole week!

Goten himself would still have school during the visit, but he would take what he could get.

He drops his head against the window. The glass was cold and foggy, but he could still see the little white flurries trickling towards the grass below. Goten thought it was a little early to snow, but then again, he wasn’t quite familiar with the weather patterns in America.

Goten turned his head, and saw Trunks saying his goodbyes to Tyrese, before making his way over towards him.

“Ready to go?” Trunks asked.

Goten then furrowed his brow and grumbled an honest: “No.” It was cold, and he had no desire to go back out there.

Trunks laughed, zipped up Goten’s jacket, and pulled his hat over his ears. Goten leaned in for a quick kiss, but Trunks backed away.

“Hey,” Goten says in frustration.

Trunks ticks his head in Tyrese’s direction. “I like him, and I’d rather not scare him off, kay?”

Goten recognizes the English phrase, “thank you” coming from Tyrese, and Goten—already passed his original embarrassment, because he is a Son, and standard humiliating experiences don’t affect him for long—laughs.

“Alright let’s go,” Trunks says, unlatching the window.

“Wait we’re...” he looked over in uncertainty at the new roommate.

“Look at the poster over his bed,” Trunks replies.

Goten indeed looks over and is surprised to see a picture of Tien on the wall. The hairless man is young, smirking, and levitating a few feet off the ground.

“Fun fact about Tyrese,” Trunks says as he drops from the window. “His favorite fighter and role model is Tien Shinhan, despite him competing in the world martial arts tournament long before our time. So, no, Tyrese was not incredibly surprised when I told him that people can actually fly.”

“Oh. Well, in that case.” Goten leaps from the window and sticks his hand back inside. “ _Sayōnara_ , Tirisu- _san_!”

The boy waves his hand in Goten’s direction. Goten smiles and does a flip just for Tyrese’s amusement. He then speeds up to reach Trunks, whose shoulders are shaking once more with laughter.

“What?”

“We really need to work on your accent.”

“What accent?”

Trunks just laughs again and bumps into him.

Goten bumps him back, and once they are both steady again, Goten asks, “So, what were you whispering to Tyrese about?”

He sees the corner of Trunks’ lip quirk. “About how I’ve got an amazingly jealous boyfriend who will not consider the fact that the majority of men in the world are _straight_ , and it would be rather unlikely that I would not _only_ get a gay roommate, but one that was _better_ than the one I already have.”

Goten flushes. “Very funny.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it was.”

“Whatever,” Goten replies, taking Trunks’ hand. “You aren’t going to ruin my good mood. You’re going to be home for a whole week!”

Trunks hums. “You’re still going to be in school, and I have a paper to write.”

“Didn’t I just say, ‘you aren’t going to ruin my good mood’?” Goten says, pulling Trunks closer, and nuzzling his nose against his cheek.

“You might have mentioned it,” he replies. “Now get off. It’s hard to fly when you’re clinging to me.”

So, what did Goten do? He curled his arms around Trunks’ waist and wrapped his leg around Trunks’ knees, of course. Why? Mainly it’s because Trunks deserves to be punished for messing with him about Tyrese earlier. Also, well, because he would not be ‘Goten’ if he didn’t get on Trunks’ nerves every _once_ and awhile.

From Trunks complaints and efforts to break free, Goten figures he’s successful.


	2. Snowball Fights

#2 **-** Snowball Fights

Word Count: 775

* * *

Trunks drums his gloved fingers against the frigid metal of the picnic table. Winter weather had hit early this year, and _hard_ (much to Goten’s chagrin). It was mid-morning, and three inches of pure powder covered the ground, steadily growing higher from the snow still falling rapidly from the sky. Trunks didn’t mind so much. His coat was warm, and he liked snow.

“So, how’s college treating you?” Trunks turned towards Marron, who was waiting for an answer. Trunks was glad that Krillin brought her over to Capsule Corporations, because despite her age, they were very close, and he definitely considered her to be one of his best friends. He thinks it's a nice enough title; he only has one other one of those, and well, he thinks it's nice to have someone else who he's not getting dicked down by on the regular to award his total trust.

Trunks did not have a lot of friends, and he'll be damned if he doesn't treasure the ones he's got.

“It’s alright, I guess. My one professor bores me to the point of tears but he’s kind of hot so I guess it kind of cancels out—”

Trunks’ sentence was cut off by a ball thudding against the back of his head. Or not a regular ball, he supposed, because it crumbled immediately upon impact, and trailed an icy cold line down his hat and onto the unprotected skin of his neck.

“Oh boy,” Marron says as she cups a hand over her mouth to poorly conceal her laughter. Trunks nods his head a couple of times, because well, he didn’t _want_ things to be this way, but he could accept that some things were out of his control and adapt accordingly.

He swings his legs from the picnic bench and rises to his feet. Goten is there, a smug smile on his face and another snowball ready in his palm. He’s about to give Goten a look that means ‘ _It’s on_!’ when he is cut off by mystery snow suddenly hitting Goten in the face.

Goten is just as dazed as Trunks, as he brushes the powder off his face. The three teenagers look around, as a small voice catches their attention.

“Don’t think you can hit Trunks and get away with it, Uncle Goten!” Shouts Pan, another snowball clutched in her mitten. Her determined eyes set on Goten.

“Let’s get him, Pan!” Trunks says, scooping up snow and running as he packs it together.

“What? No! Bra, Marron, help me!” Goten exclaims, running away from his boyfriend and niece. The two other girls indeed join, and it’s not long before the snowballs were flying. Balls of hard snow broke against Trunks’ body as he ran about, pelting any moving body that wasn’t his tiny teammate’s.

“Ah, Goten! This isn’t how partnerships work!” Marron shouts as she was lifted off her feet by her underarms, acting as a human shield for Goten. Trunks and Pan made sure to take advantage of the opportunity.

“I’m too beautiful to get snowballed!” Goten exclaims.

“You’re silly, Goten!” Bra says as she, and Pan collapse down in the snow to laugh. Marron finally wiggles out of Goten’s grasp, and playfully shoves him. Goten brushes snow from his cheeks, and looks over towards the two little girls.

“Hey, where did Trunks go?” The Son asks, his eyes sweeping back and forth in search of his missing boyfriend. Marron shrugs.

“ _Crap_ ,” Goten says and moves to turn around, but it’s already too late. There is a hand down his shirt collar, and frigid snow sliding down his back.

He shrieks and jumps around, trying desperately to remove the snow as loud laughter rings out around him. He turns around with his brows furrowed, and sees that Trunks is bent over with his arms wrapped around his abdomen as if he were in severe pain, chackling boisterously. Goten smirks and runs over towards him, the other boy far too lost in his amusement to notice. Trunks has joyful tears in his eyes when he is lifted off of his feet by muscled arms wrapped tightly around his torso.

“Alright, I’ll buy cheesecakes for whoever hits Trunks with the most snowballs.”

“No!” Trunks shrieks and kicks his legs in a desperate effort to escape. He fails, and can do nothing against the three girls who are pelting him with the cold balls of snow.

XXX

In the end, it was Bra who won the cakes, and Trunks—sitting in the booth at The Cheesecake Factory, with new clothes, and Goten’s arm around his shoulders—was annoyed at how much she was enjoying them.


	3. Sweaters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are references to sexual content in this drabble.

#3- Sweaters

Word Count: 1356

* * *

Goten wonders if his insurance will cover reconstruction on his lip once he's inevitably bitten through it.

Other than that predicament he's rather comfortable. He's wrapped up in both his comforter and favorite _Avengers_ blanket, with a pillow bunched up snuggly underneath his chest, and his body still relaxed in his lingering afterglow. He'd be fucking fantastic honestly, if it weren't for the whole lip biting thing, the textbook and worksheet spread out in front of him, and the pencil he can't help but beat against his temple in a futile attempt to get his brain to _work_. He’s not entirely sure why he moved onto the next level of French, when he was struggling last year even _with_ Trunks' help. What was he ever going to use French for anyway? Or History, or Chemistry, or Calculus, or any other class that he can't fucking _do_?

"Having trouble in the paradise that is senior year?"

Goten looks over with a glare. "Having trouble in the paradise that is writing a three-hundred-page paper?"

"Try ten pages, and yes, thank you for asking," Trunks grumbles, not moving his eyes from the laptop he has balanced on his drawn-up thighs. "My professor has, like, eighty students, so why exactly she would torture _herself_ by making us write 800 pages of crap that _she’ll_ have to read and grade is beyond me."

Trunks may be amazing at mental math—okay, that may not have been the most difficult of math equations but Goten isn’t good with numbers okay? —but when it came to essays, he was apparently utter trash. Or, at least, as trashy as Trunks could be about anything he does. "How many pages do you have done?"

"Like, four."

"When is it due?"

"Yesterday." Trunk rubs his hands over his eyes. "I'm going to have to ask for an extension. My professor is a push-over; she'll give me one."

Trunks’ hands then go to roughly rub up and down his arms. "Turn the heat up, Goten."

"I already did. I think it's broken."

"Something is always broken with you and your damn room." Trunks gave Goten enough time to realize that he had been insulted, before he swings his legs off the edge of the bed. He gathers up his silver laptop and charger, and marches towards the door.

"Where you goin’?"

"Downstairs," Trunks replies. "I can't work under these conditions."

Goten waves him off with an eye roll and returns to his homework, just as lost as he was before.

Trunks closes the door behind him and pulls the charger up closer to his body, so he doesn’t trip and kill himself. He sees Chi-Chi cooking in the kitchen as he passes, before he steps into the living room. Gohan is there with Pan asleep in his lap. It’s around six pm, and Trunks isn't a parent or anything, but he thinks it’s a little late for Pan to be taking a nap. From the annoyed look on Gohan’s face, Trunks can assume that he agrees.

Gohan’s face clears as he notices him entering the room. “Hey, Trunks.”

“Hey,” he replies as he sits on the other side of the couch, curling his legs underneath himself and situating the laptop on his lap.

“Has Goten been distracting you?”

Trunks flushes and steadfastly keeps his eyes on the computer screen, because yes, Goten certainly _had_ been distracting him quite a bit not twenty minutes ago. Trunks decided that he would spare Gohan the details, because it wasn’t necessary for the older man to know exactly _how_ his little brother had been distracting him...

He clears his throat. “Y-yeah, and it’s freezing in his room.”

“Did you say you were cold?” Trunks nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns, he sees Chi-Chi watching him from a few feet away.

“Oh, uh, yeah...”

“Hold on,” the woman says, before she walks down the hall and disappears into a closet. Trunks watches and nearly groans as she pulls out a large plastic bin and drags it to the middle of the living room. She drops to her knees, snaps the lip off it, and begins to sort through it.

“It’s about time that I pull these out,” she mutters to herself as she sorts through the folded piles. It’s not long before a triumphant grin takes over her face as she holds out a single sweater. “I bought it for Goten, so it should fit you perfectly.”

Trunks doesn’t remember ever seeing that one before. The sweater was off-white with crazy, undefinable patterns of what he assumes to be black and red mistletoe, with the center having two large, black reindeer and a skinny figure that looked like a tree. Despite what Chi-Chi says, it actually wouldn't fit either of them; just from looking at it, Trunks could tell that the sleeves were too long, and the end of it would probably cover his butt in a way that would probably look quite fashionable if on a girl. It is, quite honestly, a very ugly sweater, and not even in a purposely ironic way.

Trunks really wanted that sweater. He wanted that ugly, over-sized, comfortable-looking, undoubtedly _warm_ sweater. Not to wear in public of course—Trunks hadn’t completely lost his sense—but maybe around his dorm, or in his family’s living room, or when things were getting steamy and he didn’t have the willpower to throw on pants when he needed to run to the bathroom and grab a cond-

He fought the urge to shake away his blush. Should he even be surprised that Goten could invade his thoughts even when he was doing something as mundane as a contemplating a Christmas sweater?

No, he supposed he shouldn't.

“Er, thanks,” Trunks says, trying to put as much dismay into his voice as possible as he takes the sweater with false reluctance. He seems to have fooled Gohan, who gives him an apologetic look as he’s handed his own sweater. Apparently, he was not good enough to fool Chi-Chi, who smiles and winks at him before pulling out a tiny one for Pan.

Trunks’ face grows even warmer, and he hurriedly tugs the sweater on over his t-shirt to hide the embarrassing look. Once the sweater is situated over his torso (it hugs his butt quite nicely, he admits), he pushes the long sleeves to his wrist, and brings his attention back to his paper. As he types—now warm and cozy—his mind wanders to his boyfriend upstairs and what he will say when he sees it on him. Will Goten make fun of him? Probably (never mind that the sweater is _his_ ). Will Goten trace his fingers on the reindeer with every intent of tickling Trunks in the process? Bet on it. Will he try to take it off? Yeah, of course—Goten was _always_ trying to take his clothes off. Will Trunks _let_ him?

...Perhaps. And when— _if_ —he lets Goten take it off, Goten will probably do that thing where he kisses Trunks all over while he unbuckles-

... ** _Combined with the rate of trade during the Byzantine Empire time-period. My belt, and pulling my pants off with that cheeky grin of his and_**

“ _Gah!_ ” Trunks hisses quietly, furiously pounding the backspace key to delete the last sentence from his essay with burning cheeks. Honestly, thinking about _sex_ while wearing a hideous sweater, and working on a nerve-wracking essay while surrounded by his boyfriend’s _family_ was just about every level of _not okay_. That was something Goten would do, not _him_.

It must be because he’s wearing Goten’s sweater; there’s no other explanation.

... Trunks still isn’t giving it back.


	4. Hot Chocolate

#4- Hot Chocolate

Word Count: 719

* * *

Goten stretches his arms high over his head as he walks down a sleek and modern hallway of Capsule Corps. He had just taken a shower and changed into his pajamas pants and long-sleeve shirt (Goten never wears a shirt to bed, not even during the winter, but he figured the other Briefs would appreciate it if he didn't gallop around their house half-naked. Now had it just been _Trunks_ in the house... well, you can guess where Goten is taking that) and was on his way back to Trunks’ room to tuck in for the night.

(Yes, Goten technically has a separate room he’s supposed to be staying in but what Trunks’ parents don’t know won’t kill them.)

He feels a sudden rumble in his belly and makes a slight detour from his destination. He skips down the stairs and directs himself towards their kitchen. Dinner was a whole three hours ago, and he is going to need a snack if he wants to have as comfortable a sleep as possible once he’s cuddled up behind Trunks tonight.

Once he rounds the kitchen archway, he sees that it is not empty. Sitting on the counter, with his knees-drawn up to his chest and fuzzy socks on his feet, is Trunks. There is a steaming mug clasped in his hands, and his eyes are staring out the window he's leaning against. It’s dark outside, and there are little flurries of white trickling past the glass.

"I thought you were in your room." The tiles are cold against Goten's bare feet as he crosses the room.

Trunks nearly tossed his mug in fright. “Don’t _do_ that.” Goten just gave him a cheeky grin, to which Trunks responded with a roll of his eyes. “I was thirsty.”

"Is that hot chocolate?" Goten asks as he spins Trunks' body so that his legs dangle off the counter. Goten situates himself in between his spread knees and wraps his arms around Trunks' waist. "Where's mine?"

Trunks leans his back against the window. "Sorry, I didn't know you wanted one."

"Why wouldn't I want a hot chocolate?" Goten asks, leaning closer.

"Just ask the robots to make you one. Or better yet, make one yourself. The process from start to finish takes about a grand total of three minutes."

"That sounds like a lot of work," Goten replies honestly, the tip of his nose pressing against Trunks' neck. He nuzzles against the warm skin and Trunks shifts at the sensation.

"Life is work, deal with it," Trunks says, his lidded eyes looking back at him as their noses bump.

"Mmm, I suppose so." Goten's close, and his words tingle Trunks' lips. Trunks leans forward to the point where they’re nearly kissing, when Goten tugs the mug from his grasp.

"Goten!" Trunks exclaims, flustered, as the Son shuffles away, giggling. The mug is hot against Goten's fingertips, so he shifts to hold the handle as he speeds away from the very annoyed boyfriend that is now stalking after him.

He turns around and sees that Trunks has stopped and is standing with his arms crossed against his chest.

Goten smirks and brings the mug to his lips, taking a large sip of the chocolate drink.

" _Shit_ ," he mumbles, as bits of delicious liquid dribbles from his mouth. Goten wraps his hand around his lips, his shoulders shaking as he laughs at himself around the too-hot beverage in his mouth. Trunks’ lips pull into a side smile as his eyebrows quirk in amusement.

Goten quickly swallowed, and needlessly announced, "It burned my tongue."

"I can see that. I would even say you deserved it," Trunks says as he walks over and snatches his mug back from Goten's grip. He is stopped from moving away altogether, however, by two pale hands grabbing his hips.

Goten leans close until their foreheads bump together. "Kiss it better?"

Trunks rolls his eyes but doesn't get a chance to respond because Goten already has his lips on him. The tongue that trails past his teeth is warm, and the lips that move against his taste like chocolate. Trunks likes chocolate—and yes, he'll admit that he _kind_ _of_ likes Goten as well—so he sucks on the intruding tongue and lets his imaginary healing powers kiss his love’s— _deserved_ —pain away. 


	5. Shoveling

#5- Shoveling

Word Count: 935

* * *

Goten's mitten-clad hands are stuffed deep into his pockets as he speeds through the air. He didn't want to have to leave Capsule Corps so early in the morning—well, he didn't want to do much of _anything_ early in the morning—but with his mother sick in bed and Piccolo who-knew-where, Pan was in need of a babysitter. Videl was home now though, so he was free to return to his home-away-from-home.

Once he approaches the archway with the banner reading "Capsule Corps", he crosses his arms and quirks his eyebrow. A few feet ahead of him is his boyfriend, who is hunched over and scooping up snow with a shovel, while an extra one lays untouched by his feet. He seems to be muttering obscenities to himself.

"What are you doing?"

" _Gah_!" Trunks jumps. He whips around with his hand clenching his chest. "Fuck _you_."

"What are you doing?" Goten repeats.

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" He snaps back.

"I mean _why_."

Trunks pierces the tip of his shovel in the snow, and stomps on it to dig it in deeper. "My Father broke the robots, and all this snow will screw up the hover-cars."

"Well why don't you just shovel... faster?"

Trunks sighs. "My _Mother_ told me not to use my ‘saiyan strength’” he made air-quotes with his navy-covered fingers, “because I might fuck up the pavement."

"Ah. That sucks."

"Yeah, it does. You know what else sucks?" Trunks turns and bends over to grabs the spare shovel. "You're going to help me."

“But... I don't want too..." Goten says, frowning at the tool presented to him. The house—only a mere _fifteen_ _feet_ away—looked so warm and inviting, while out here was just... _ugh_.

"Come on, please?" Trunks’ bottom lip even pokes out a bit, and it’s so pitifully cute that Goten knows he hadn’t even meant to do it.

Goten tries to find a reason to deny that adorable face. He can’t, so he decides to at least try and make it worth his while.

He leans close to say softly. "I will, if you bend over like that again for me."

Trunks flushes brightly, and yet doesn't seem surprised in the slightest. He trails his eyes elsewhere as he thrusts the extra shovel into Goten hands, muttering, "...W-We’ll see. Now come _on_."

The Son laughs and kisses Trunks’ temple, before turning away and frowning down at the snow. Begrudgingly, he forces the end of the shovel into the powder, scoops with the help of his foot, and throws it to the side.

It’s when he’s on his third scoop that he decides he’s over this whole ordeal.

He doesn’t stop though, because despite the fact that had their roles been reversed Trunks probably would’ve laughed right in his face at the request of assistance, he figures his boyfriend deserves some slack. He did, after all, just write a _really_ long paper, and completed all his other neglected homework assignments. Goten did not like imaging what college would be like—too painful to comprehend—but he figured that _stressful_ was a very good adjective to use, and he didn’t want his Trunks to have to be more stressed than necessary.

With that in mind he maneuvers to scoop up the snow behind him. He stops, because a flash catches his eye. When he looks up, his blood runs cold.

His blood runs cold, because there is a person over there that, well, should be _very_ happy that Goten hasn’t run into him until now.

Shaggy black hair that hung like a curtain over slanted, bright green eyes, lean frame, and a bit on the short side...

That is most definitely Akeno. He’s just across the street, leaning against a car with two young boys playing around his legs (his brothers? Cousins? Goten really doesn’t care). His eyes are trained on his cellphone and his body language is completely casual, like he somehow can’t feel the death glare burning through his skin. Like he doesn’t know that Goten has a bone to pick with him.

A very _large_ bone, which might involve some breaking of real bones, and other creative puns that Goten can’t think of at the moment, because his quickly rising anger is already propelling him forward— 

“Hey, I’m finished, let’s go inside.” There are hands suddenly around his bicep and tugging him in the opposite direction.

Goten stumbles after Trunks up the pathway that is clearly not finished, while also nudging his head towards the asshole that is _way_ too close to them—who should know better than to _ever_ be around them again—and _needs_ to be removed from the premises... by strong words or some fists or perhaps a well-aimed projectile. “But, Tru—”

“Goten.” Trunks spins around, his body pressed tight against Goten’s. His eyes are nearly begging as unease clouds his face. “Not now. _Please_.”

Goten feels guilty, because he doesn’t like that he put that pleading look in Trunks’ eyes, but he’s also pissed, because he definitely doesn’t like that _Akeno_ put that unease on Trunks’ face. Goten is _angry_ , and wants to _do_ something about it, but he doesn’t, for Trunks’ sake.

Or at least, he won’t do anything _now_.

“Okay,” he forces out. “Okay, let’s go.” He wraps his arm pointedly tight around Trunks’ shoulders and holds him close as they march up the snowy walkway. Goten can’t help glancing over his shoulder though, and thinks that Akeno might be watching them, and just _might_ be watching them with narrowed eyes.

Goten bares his teeth just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, does anyone remember Akeno? He was only mentioned briefly in drabble #22 in ‘Our First Summer’, so it’s okay if you don’t.


	6. Decorations

#6- Decorations

Word Count: 1370

* * *

Goten stumbles under the weight of the boxes—all filled to the brim with decorations—braced on the top of his head and shoulders. It's not that they're heavy—not many things are _heavy_ for him—but it’s rather their size that makes him stumble around awkwardly, so as not to drop them. He wanted to fly, but he figured if he couldn't even be coordinated on his _feet_ , he wouldn't do much better in the air. Fortunately, the front door wasn't too far ahead.

With only a few more precarious strides, he finally reaches the threshold of the front door. He barely manages to get through, before he drops the boxes down as gently as he possibly can. His mother nods approvingly before focusing back on hanging the lights around the edge of the roof, assisted by Gohan, who held her on his shoulders.

Goten turns away and scouts out his boyfriend. Trunks was rather annoyed that they kept bouncing from house to house, but Goten didn't mind so much, just as long they got to spend time together.

Cheesy? Yes, he knows, and you can fight him about it.

It doesn't take him long to find Trunks (he has _purple hair_ , after all). He is sitting in the snow with Pan, as they both spread the colorful lights on the frame of a low window outside Gohan’s house.

Goten seats himself behind his boyfriend and rustles his niece's head. She giggles, and fixes her hat that has fallen over her eyes.

"Pan! ‘ _The Little Drummer Boy’_ is on!" Goten hears his brother call.

The girl hops to her feet and runs away cheering. Goten almost follows her, but doesn't, because he's not quite in the mood to watch such a cheerful program.

He turns to look at his boyfriend, but he isn’t even paying attention to him. Trunks is on his knees, his back to Goten, as he tries to situate the lights despite losing his tiny assistant. 

Goten crawls over and kneels behind his boyfriend. He wraps his puffy arms around his middle and buries his face in the crook of Trunks' neck.

"You know, this is a bit harder to do when you're clinging to me," says Trunks. Despite his words, he's leaning back into Goten's embrace.

"I love you." Goten says with muffled words.

Trunks goes still. Then he replies, "I love you too, Goten."

"Then why won't you let me break Akeno's face?"

Trunks sighs dramatically, as he throws his head back against Goten’s shoulder. " _Please_ don't make a big deal about him. It's over and done with. Just let it go."

Goten remembers how angry Trunks’ looked while they fought that day in his bedroom. He remembers seeing Trunks unconscious on the burning pavement. He remembers the tube trailing from Trunk’s nose, and how small his voice sounded when he told him what— _who—_ had started it all.

Goten tries to imagine just ‘letting it go’ and he can’t. He really can’t.

Apparently, the asshole was studying photography in America (Trunks reminded him that it was a big country and their universities weren’t even _remotely_ near each other). Because of this, he also got off for the ‘Thanksgiving break’. It was common knowledge that Akeno lived in West City, not far from Capsule Corporations, even. That still didn’t explain _why_ he was there, practically sitting on Capsule Corps doorstep that day.

Goten knew ‘fishy’ when he smelled it.

“How can I let it go when he pops up on our territory?”

Trunks rolls his eyes. “He wasn’t ‘on our territory’, he was across the street. Across the street is public property.”

“Yeah, so he just _conveniently_ decided to loiter on the ‘public property’,” he air-quoted for emphasis, “right outside of Capsule Corps.?”

“Could be; looked to me like he was waiting for someone. He didn’t even notice us.”

Goten is pretty sure that Akeno _did_ in fact, notice them, but he says nothing of that. Instead, he asks, “Did you not let me go over there because he had those two boys with him?” Goten couldn't think of any other logical reason why else.

“His nephew and cousin. One of them is in Bra’s class,” Trunks says as he rolls around and sits back on his butt. Goten is quick to place himself between Trunks' drawn-up knees. “Sort of. Mostly because I didn’t want you to do something stupid that you’d regret.”

“There’s nothing I could regret doing to him,” Goten is quick to say, his brows narrowing as he thinks of all the things he _could_ do to Akeno that he most certainly _wouldn’t_ regret.

“Picking fights with him over shit he said almost half a year ago? Don’t you think it’s a little unnecessary now?”

“I don’t care how long ago it was. He hurt you.” Goten says sternly. Trunks looks away.

“He did,” he admits softly, focusing on the Christmas lights while his fingers toyed with them. “But I’m over it. I haven’t even heard anything about him until now, and I doubt he’s even concerning himself with me. Let’s not give him a reason too and just move on, okay?”

Goten wanted to point out that Trunks isn’t really convincing when he claims he’s over it but decided that there was no point in arguing over this. He wasn’t going to take his frustrations out on the wrong person.

He has learned his lesson on that.

Instead, he mutters, “I’m not going to let this go... but I will do my best to restrain myself from strangling him.”

Trunks rolls his eyes again, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips as he rises to his feet. “Whatever, just help me finish this damn house.”

Goten stands quickly, startling the other. He wraps his arms underneath the rump of Trunks’ ass, lifts the yelping boy off his feet, and braces his back against the wall of his brother’s home.

“Hey!” Trunks shouts as Goten shifts his hands to hold him up by his thighs.

Goten smiles despite the scowl on his face. “Come on, _‘The Little Drummer Boy’_ is like, an hour long. Just think about what we could _do_ in an hour.”

Trunks’ face is flushed, partially because he’s a little tangled in the house lights he was _supposed_ to be hanging, but some still adorably natural. He tries to pull his legs from Goten’s grip, but the Son doesn’t relent. He only gives Trunks a cheeky smile and presses their pelvises together. He pulls on Trunks’ knees so that they squeeze his hips, because he likes the feel of having him so snug around him.

“We’ve got to finish Gohan’s house,” Trunks protest weakly as his hands fall to the back of Goten’s neck.

“Gohan can decorate his own damn house on his own damn time. Right now, I’d rather be doing some explicit things to you against said damn house.”

“You do know it’s like 20 degrees, right? I’d rather not freeze my dick off, if it’s all the same to you.”

Goten groans. “Stop being difficult and let me love you.”

Of course, Trunks’ eyes roll, but he can’t really object anymore because he's being kissed rather thoroughly. The house lights tangled on Trunks’ torso are bright and illuminate his face in a myriad of colors as Goten sucks on his neck. His cheeks and nose are reddened from the cold, but the skin of his neck and—with some unzipping of Trunks’ coat—collarbone is hot under Goten’s tongue, and he just can’t get enough of it. Trunks will bitch about the love-bruises later, but the Goten of the now doesn’t really give a shit, and right now, he thinks Trunks doesn’t either.

After a few moments—once he’s shifted Trunks higher and those beautiful legs wrap tightly around his ass—Goten can’t help but notice the fact that Trunks really has made _no_ moves to be put down, and that the nails in his hair are scratching his scalp in just the right way. He’s glad he noticed though, because it’s a much more pleasant thing to focus on than a certain asshole who really deserves another ass-kicking right about now.


	7. Sledding

#7- Sledding

Word Count: 1187

* * *

Goten can't help but smile at the laughter he hears in his ear. They can fly themselves, but Bra and his niece still giggle gleefully atop his shoulders as he floats up a steep, snowy hill. Behind him is Trunks, who is carrying a bright orange sled with him.

When he reaches the top, he drops the girls ungracefully onto the snow. They are still laughing and struggling to right themselves when Trunks touches down beside him. Goten pecks his boyfriend’s cheek and takes the sled from him. He places it down in the snow and situates it so that it tips just so.

“Alrighty, get on!”

The two girls shuffle so that they are sitting on the board together, with Pan in the front. Goten is sure to wrap Pan’s scarf firmly around her nose, because he knows from experience how shitty it can be to have flying shards of snow in your face.

Goten moves behind the board and jostles it a bit. “You guys ready?”

They both shout, “ _Yeah_!” and Goten wastes no time pushing them off the hill. He laughs as he watches them scream and bump about on the board, before they finally fall off in a tangle of snow.

Goten turns look up at Trunks. He stands there with his puffy arms crossed, a fond look on his face as he watches the girls scramble back to their feet.

Goten nudges him in the leg. “Hey.”

“What?” Trunks questions, dropping his gaze.

Goten ticks his head to the left. “Want to go for a ride? And I mean that as non-sexually as possible.”

Trunks rolls his eyes at the last comment. “No, I’m cool up here.”

“ _Come on_ ,” Goten whines and wraps his arms around Trunks’ leg.

“No, screw that. I’ll be fucking nineteen in five months, and I’m not riding a sled designed for a ten-year-old. Besides, when I fall off, I’m going to be bouncing all over the fucking place and I don’t want to get all wet... shut _up_ , Goten.”

Come on, _anyone_ would have laughed at that.

“Pan!” Goten shouts down the hill. “Throw that board up here!”

The girl nods as she lifts the board high over her head and throws it with enough force to keep it from flopping wildly in the air. The board hits Goten kind of hard in the gut, and he coughs awkwardly to cover it up.

Trunks grunts as Goten grabs his wrist and yanks him to his knees. “Goten, I’m not getting on that thing with you.”

“Come on, babe.” Goten presses his nose against Trunks’ cheek and smiles at the annoyed side-look he receives. “I promise I’ll reward you for it later.”

Trunks turns his head so that their noses bump. He arches his brow over lidded blue-eyes as he questions, “Are you sure this ‘reward’ is for me, and not you?”

“Perhaps it’s for both of us,” Goten concedes. “2-in-1, sounds pretty good to me. Now get your ass on this board and enjoy life with me.”

Trunks grumbles as he’s pulled onto the board. “Why do I have to sit in the front?”

“Because you have the scarf, now cover up your pretty little face,” Goten replies as he seats himself behind Trunks. He knows that Trunks is being difficult because of his whole ‘maturity thing’, but Goten isn’t _completely_ stupid, and knows that Trunks really wants to do this, reward or no reward.

But... the reward is still _pretty nice_.

“Lean forward,” he says to Trunks, and he thinks he might feel the tiniest bit of adrenaline pumping through him.

Trunks indeed does lean forward, and the board tips down the hill.

Inconspicuously—so that Trunks does not notice—Goten spreads his hands out behind him, and lets out a burst of _Ki_. The energy is small, and dissipates quickly, but it affects their speed almost dramatically so.

It... was _not_ a good move...

“ _Shit_!” Trunks shouts. Goten is a bit surprised, because Trunks usually refrains from cursing in front of children... Goten isn’t _all_ that surprised though, because he’s cursing a bit as well. The board jumps like a bull rider over the snow. Shards of crystal nip at Goten’s cheeks, and he’s glad that Trunks had the sense to cover his exposed skin with his hands, because he bets it’s much worse for him.

And then, the board was no longer underneath them—Goten thinks it hit a rock, because it kind of flipped over, and flung them a bit—but they were still flying. Bouncing and rolling down the hill they went, their bodies painfully tangling, then separating, and repeating over and over. Goten thinks he just did a backwards somersault, and then kicked Trunks in the ear, but he can’t tell. When he tries to open his eyes, he sees flying snow—and Trunks’ knee when it hit him in the cheek—and all he can hear is his and Trunks’ grunts and shouts as their bodies bang against the snow-packed ground and each other.

The ordeal finally ends with a final collide of their bodies. There’s a banging in Goten’s head, and he can’t help but groan out loud as he buries his face into Trunks’ armpit.

Once his headache passes, he registers that the body underneath his is shaking. He looks up, and sees Trunks smiling and biting his lip, like he’s holding in giggles.

Goten pinches the fabric of Trunks’ coat. “You’re all _wet_.”

Trunks releases his lip as loud laughter spills from him. Goten laughs with him, so much that his sides start to hurt. That doesn’t deter his good spirits; if anything, they make him laugh harder. He’s feeling very much so like an idiot, and his spine is aching something fierce, but god _dammit_ this whole situation is just funny as _hell_.

After a moment, they are quiet. Goten leans down for a quick kiss and asks, “Did you have fun?”

Trunks’ voice is soft as he admits, “Yeah, I did.”

“See? I knew you would! This is why you should listen to me. You would enjoy life at least _five_ times more if you stopped resisting my wonderful way of living.”

“That might be the most mathematical thing you’ve said all year.”

“Whatever.” Goten rests his head against Trunks’ shoulder, and wraps his arm around his waist. “Don’t even try to move; we’re laying here.”

Trunks’ head tilts to connect with Goten’s. “We can’t. We’ve got to get Bra and Pan back for dinner.”

Goten hums, and snuggles closer. “They’re smart; they’ll find their way home.”

Trunks chuckles. “You’re a mess.”

“I’m _your_ mess,” Goten corrects.

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Trunks smirks.

“It is, jerk. Now shut up; you’re ruining my content nature.”

Trunks laughs again. Goten closes his eyes and enjoys the sweet vibrations of the body beneath his. He wonders how long he could lay here, resting, and listening to Trunks laugh, before he finally gets bored. He thinks it could be a _long_ time.

Or, at least... until the snow starts freezing his balls off.

...Whichever comes first.


	8. Skiing

#8- Skiing

Word Count: 982

* * *

"So, guys, which hill should we try first?" the girl clinging to Tyrese's arm asks.

Goten ignores her statement at first—he can't understand her anyway—but once Trunks translates, he replies, "Any, I guess."

Erana smiles and points towards the nearest hill. It is, more or less, a slightly-inclined path of snow with tiny children sliding down it—a bunny hill.

Goten wasn't sure what to expect when he finally met Tyrese's equally-American girlfriend. She was certainly pretty: a bit short, with warm, brown skin, curly hair braided into a ponytail, bright eyes, and full lips. She was also rather nice—or at least, she _seemed_ nice; he couldn’t exactly understand anything she was saying—just as Trunks had said. Yeah, Goten would say that he liked this girl, despite the inability to _actually_ communicate with her.

He wondered if he could ever learn English. Given his track record with French he figured probably not.

It had been her idea to double-date—Trunks and Tyrese refuse to consider it a 'double-date'—to this ski-resort. Goten had never been skiing before (none of them had except for Erana, in fact), but he was always up for trying new things.

"A bunny hill?" Goten says, slightly offended at her lack of faith in his skill.

"Yeah," Trunks says, as he trudges towards the pitiful excuse for a snow mound. "So that when you fall on your face—which you will—your delicate body won’t take _too_ much damage."

Goten pinches Trunks in the butt for the insult, before sitting down to strap the skis on his boots. Trunks follows suit, and they both waddle over to the edge of the hill.

Goten looks down the slope with a bit of uncertainty. He isn't scared, but he just... doesn't know what the fuck to _do_.

"So, do I just... glide?" he asks his boyfriend.

Trunks shrugs. "I guess. That's all it looks like."

"Well... you're older, so by universal law, you must go first."

"Wha- _hey_!" Trunks cries, but it's too late. There are two hands pushing against his back and sending him down the hill.

He curses on his way down, his body slanted over to keep himself upright. He gets rather far before he finally falls over, and Goten can't help but to be impressed. He chuckles at his disoriented boyfriend, who is fuming while he fumbles to his feet. Once Trunks is upright, he glares and gives him the middle finger. When Goten blows him back a kiss, Trunks waves his hand, motioning for him to come down as well.

Goten sweeps his eyes back and forth to make sure that no one is watching—it seems Tyrese and Erana have ditched them for a more challenging hill—before he places himself at the edge. He's got two pole-thingies—no, he cannot remember if they have special names or not—in his hands, but he's not sure what he's supposed to do with them. He guesses he's about to find out.

With a deep breath, he tips the ends of the skinny boards off the hill and goes down.

He's sliding down the hill, and there’s an unsettling feeling of unbalance over his whole body, and it's a scary as _fuck_ sensation, so he screams.

Down the hill he goes, ever so slowly. His body is frozen in its position; bent at the knees and gripping the poles. Even his mouth is frozen wide open, as he screams with terror. He has to stop to breathe between his yelling, but that doesn't stop him, because this shit is _horrifying_ , and _everyone_ must know it. There are people watching him as he slides down the hill at a turtle’s pace, but he doesn't pay them any mind, and only focuses on keeping himself alive in this terrible situation. Why did Erana think this was a _good idea_?!

Finally, his direction tilts, and he slides to the side before gently falling over into the snow.

Quickly, he yanks the death boards off his feet. His eyes are wide as he looks over and sees that his boyfriend has caught up with him, only to fall over and violently convulse in the snow. When Goten sees Trunks' tomato-red face, he thinks with horror that the evil mountain has gotten him too. He scowls though, when he sees that the other boy is simply laughing so hard that he can't get a sound out.

"Don't laugh! I felt like I was dying!" Goten protests, but that only makes Trunks wheeze harder.

" _H... he-help, me_ ," Trunks gasps between his staggered breathing. "It h-hurts. M-Make it, _stoooop_. _Ah-ha-ha-ha_!"

Goten throws his head back in the snow; he can't help but laugh a bit either.

Mostly he’s trying to figure out how they both fell down on the _bunny hill_.

"Oh crap," Goten says, holding his aching abdomen, as he shakes with leftover mirth. "I think I just lost at least ten pounds."

"Make that fifteen for me." Trunks says, climbing to a stand. He reaches down and helps Goten to his feet.

Goten wraps both of his arms around Trunks' biceps and rests his head on his shoulder. "Can we leave now?"

Trunks hands brace against Goten’s upper back. "We just got here."

"You're really funny if you think I'm going down that hill—or any other fucking hill—again." Goten says, leaning up to kiss the corner of Trunks' mouth.

Trunks turns his head away. "Stop it! There are _children_ here."

“And half of them probably watch porn in their free time.” Goten grabs Trunks’ hand and tugs him along.

“Most of these kids are like ten.”

Goten shrugs. “Kids are wild these days.”

“Gross.”

They trudge up the hill together, leaving behind their skis. Goten pointedly doesn’t go back for them, because he will _not_ let those things hurt him, or his Trunks, ever again.


	9. Ice Skating

#9- Ice Skating

Word Count: 620

* * *

"Goten, slow down! You're going to break my ankles!" Trunks shouts as he tugged along, walking as fast as he can with bladed shoes on.

"Here”—Goten bends his knees—"get on my back."

"This is just going to make you break _your_ ankles," Trunks replies. Despite this, he braces his hands on Goten's shoulders and hops onto his back.

Once Trunks is situated on top of him, Goten slowly stumbles over towards the rink. He amuses himself by pretending to drop Trunks, but his laughter is short lived when Trunks chokes him in his terror. Or maybe it’s in revenge; he wouldn’t put either past Trunks.

Once he's reached the entrance of the rink, he sets Trunks back down. He then takes Trunks’ hand and slides the blades under his feet onto the ice.

He tugs on Trunks’ hand when the other remains motionless. "Come on! The ice is fine!"

Trunks follows after Goten, only to pull his hand free and grip the railing around the rink so tightly it creaks warningly.

"I always get really good by the end of the night, and then come back next year and suck again," Trunks claims as he shuffles against the wall.

Goten laughs and grasps his hand again. "That's where the fun is! I get to watch you fall on your ass for an hour. Now get off the wall!"

"You're not any better at this than I am!" Trunks retorts but allows Goten to extract him from the safe-zone. They cling to each other as they glide—not _too_ far from the wall, but far enough that they can pretend they are big boys—barely moving their feet as strangers zoom by them.

" _Shit_!" Trunks hisses, as his feet slip out from under him and his butt crashes to the ice. Goten bends over to laugh, but ultimately loses his own balance and falls to his knees next to him.

"Ha-ha," Trunks mocks before he crawls toward the wall. Goten follows—he wants to know why it seems like more strangers are threatening to run _him_ over as opposed to Trunks—and clambers up onto the wall, giggling.

" _That_ was an ordeal,” Trunks says, fixing his hat back over his ears.

Goten gives him a sly smile. "Want to go again?"

"You know it."

They do indeed go again for nearly an hour. They only fell a total of two more times before they get the hang of it and were zooming around the rink, weaving through people rather rudely as they chased each other. They had to stop after a while though, because it was time for the Zamboni to do its run.

By now the Zamboni was gone, but they decided to take a snack break before skating some more.

"Aw, crap," Goten says. "I hate when they clean the ice off. It's gonna be all slippery and shit now."

Trunks nods his agreement as he sips his steaming cappuccino and drums his fingers against their table. Goten is bored and done with his food, but Trunks has his feet planted firmly on the cushion-covered ground and refuses to move until he’s finished. With a bored groan, he looks past Trunks to watch the skaters on the rink. He chuckles in his head each time he sees someone fall over.

The one he is watching now is a pretty girl with pale skin and red hair. She laughs as a man reaches down and helps her back to her feet. Goten’s eyes trail to the man, and his heart nearly stops in his chest.

This is too much of a coincidence It... _couldn’t_ be him.

Tall and broad, with blond-brunet hair...

Yep, it was definitely him.

 _Ugh_.

TBC


	10. Ice Skating II

#10- Ice Skating II

Word Count: 1115

* * *

_‘Surely by now, I have exceeded the tolerable limit for the number of_ assholes _one person can have in their life.’_

It had been quite a while since Goten had last seen Cayon. Trunks had told him one evening that past summer that he left for some university in England, and Goten didn’t ask for any information beyond that. They didn’t talk about Cayon at all aside from then. Cayon was major figure in that awful night four months ago, and they never spoke of that, or the days that followed.

He looked virtually the same—his hair perhaps a bit shorter, maybe even a bit taller—but Goten figured that was normal. It hadn’t even been three months. Not a lot of time for a complete makeover.

Not that Goten thought about Cayon’s appearance nowadays.

He was still watching Cayon and the girl glide away when his knuckles were bumped. “Come on,” Trunks says, rising to his feet.

Goten raised an amused eyebrow. “You finished, Your Majesty?”

“I am of royal descendant, so despite your tone, I take no offense from commoners like yourself,” Trunks replies as he waddles back towards the rink.

“Commoner, am I?” Goten catches up to say in Trunks’ ear. “A commoner who still manages to kick your royal _assness_ at skating.”

With that he slaps Trunks hard on the butt and waddles past him onto the ice.

Goten misses the way Trunks’ breath hitches and the blush that spreads over his face but he definitely hears Trunks shout after him as he makes his escape. He’s laughing so hard he falls over, and it’s his hands that save him from face-planting tragically onto the ice. His bladed shoes scrap hard against the cold surface as he’s chased around the rink. His arms whip back and forth quickly once he’s gotten the hang of the whole skating thing again, with his boyfriend not far behind him.

Around and around the rink they go, until Goten fears that his ankles will fall clean off if he keeps these skates on even a moment longer, and slams straight into the wall.

Trunks shoves him in the shoulder, and Goten laughs and hugs him. Trunks rolls his eyes, leans back against the wall, closes his eyes, and breathes heavy puffs of cold air from his pretty pink lips.

When Goten trails his eyes away, he notices that there are a few people watching them, including Cayon, who is, conveniently, almost directly across from them. His eyes are narrowed, so Goten glares back. However, he... can’t put that much heat into it. This phenomenon is very odd, too say the least.

Goten won’t deny that he _really_ doesn’t like Cayon (how _anyone_ could like such an asshole was beyond him). Cayon was annoying. Cayon was trouble. Cayon wanted his boyfriend, and for the longest time, Goten truly thought he could steal him—a stupid thought, he knows now, but one that bothered him greatly once upon a time ago.

Nowadays, Goten didn’t think much about him at all. Cayon didn’t bother his thoughts at night, didn’t cross his mind when he was pretending to pay attention in school, didn’t even cloud his judgement when he and Trunks bickered like he used too. If anything, Cayon seemed outdated. Old, overused, and worn out to Goten. Who cared about Cayon these days? Maybe his British friends, but certainly not Goten.

It came as a bit of shock to Goten that he really didn’t care about Cayon anymore. He had bothered him for so long and now he just... didn’t.

And then it hits him that Cayon probably isn’t glaring at him right now because he thinks he’s intimidating Goten.

He’s glaring because he _lost_.

Perhaps Cayon wouldn’t admit it, but it was true. Cayon wasn’t a threat anymore, not to their relationship at least. And if a guy like Cayon didn’t compare in Trunks’ eyes to Goten, then couldn't that be said for just about anyone else? Goten felt a flash of familiar guilt. It took him a while, but he had started to understand what Trunks meant when he said Goten never had faith in him. Trunks has given him _every_ reason to trust him, and it was Goten’s own delusions that had almost caused their downfall.

Goten shakes the thought from his head, dispelling the almost queasy feeling in his stomach before it can start. He already promised that he would do better. Dwelling on it now won’t accomplish anything—nothing good, at least.

He looked back over at Trunks. His pretty eyes were still closed, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. Goten decided it was a rather beautiful sight, and fisted his hands in the Trunks coat. He resists the urge to flash Cayon a sly smile (he's above being petty) before he leans in and presses his lips to Trunks’.

Out the corner of his eye he sees Cayon roll his eyes (and he really can’t fight the triumph he feels at that) as Trunks pushes him back.

“ _Gah_!” Trunks says as he pulls away, his face flushed in that adorable way that Goten loves. “You’ve got to work on your obsession with PDA!”

“You’re so mean, Trunks,” Goten says with a pout as he nuzzles their noses together.

Trunks skates past him. “Whatever. Stay away from me, cretin.”

“Don’t skate away from me!” Goten says and chases Trunks around and around the rink again.

XXX

Eventually, Trunks does notice Cayon. Goten didn’t care when Trunks went over with a bright greeting, nor did he when they hugged. Goten didn’t sneer when he heard the accursed nicknames: ‘Blue-eyes’ and ‘Go-Go’. Goten didn’t even flinch when Cayon whispered whatever the fuck he was always whispering in Trunks’ ear. He politely shook hands with the pretty girl Cayon had apparently been dating for the past eight days, and he didn’t roll his eyes when Cayon and Trunks promised to contact each other more often, and didn’t even protest when Cayon’s eyes lingered on Trunks’ retreating backside longer than necessary. He only looked over his shoulder once, smiled, and flipped the other boy his middle finger. After, he turned back forward and skated away towards the exit with weeping ankles and Trunks’ hand in his.


	11. Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is anal sex in this chapter.

#11- Cuddling

Word Count: 1201

* * *

Goten idly thinks that Trunks is rather enthusiastic for how reluctant he had seemed just a few minutes ago. In fact, the swivel chair they're in would probably be rolling all over the room if Goten's feet weren't planted firmly on the carpeted floor from how hard Trunks is bouncing on him. Not that he’s complaining, or anything. He _definitely_ isn’t complaining.

It had started rather simply. Goten, resting on Trunks' bed in his dorm room, decided he was in the mood (Goten won’t deny that he was pretty much _always_ in the mood when it came to Trunks). Trunks, of course, had to be his difficult self, and claimed that he had to work on another stupid paper for another stupid class. He had quite literally sat there in his stupid 'spinny chair', writing out his rough draft like Goten didn’t have a boner to end all boners. Goten, of course, would not stand to be ignored in his time of need. One thing led to another, until suddenly he found himself sitting in said 'spinny chair' with Trunks riding his lap like Alexis Texis. It really wasn't all that difficult persuading Trunks into this position, so he figures it's safe to assume that Trunks' frustration with writing papers makes him more susceptible to wanting sex. Strange, Goten thinks with a hum brewing in his throat while he grips warm, sinful hips, but definitely something he shan’t forget.

Goten stops thinking, because the fingers buried in his hair and the tight heat around his dick is incredibly, pleasantly, distracting.

Goten sits up a bit in his chair to latch onto the pink nipple that’s moving like a blur in front of his face. His head is cradled as he nibbles and sucks, and the hips are no longer bouncing but rather rolling and gyrating and _fuck_.

When he releases the red, wet, and hard bud, those lovely hips are bouncing up and down on his thighs again. Trunks' hands are everywhere on him: in his hair, holding the nape of his neck, gripping his shoulders, and pressing against his chest. Goten's hands are everywhere too: kneading hips and ass, rubbing up and down a muscled back, tangling in lavender hair, brushing hard nipples, and running across swollen lips. Goten could never keep his hands to himself and saw no reason to start now.

Goten closes his eyes, because if he keeps them open they will undoubtedly roll into the back of his head regardless. The noises of the room are amplified by his lack of sight: his own gasping, the squeaking of the chair, _Trunks_. Goten bit his own lip, quieting himself so he could hear it all. The sweet moans and gasps that spilled from Trunks’ beautiful lips were like music to Goten’s ears, especially with the knowledge that _he_ was the one causing them. A symphony of his own making, all for him.

Their faces are so very close. The hands that were all over his body are now cradling his cheeks. He looks up at Trunks, who looks down at him with those beautiful blue eyes.

" _Goten_ ," Trunks says, a whisper.

Goten groans at the way his name sounds from that voice. "Huh?"

" _I... can't_..." Goten doesn't know what Trunks can’t do, until the older boy’s head falls to rest against his shoulder. Goten's arm wraps tight around Trunks back while his other goes to grip Trunks’ hip, and with both, he helps his exhausted body continue it's rhythm. Trunks’ hardened cock rubs up against the muscles of Goten’s abdomen, begging for attention, before Trunks finally gives it to himself. Goten can feel Trunks’ knuckles beating against his abs as he fists himself, moaning Goten’s name over and over again in his ear.

When Goten can tell that Trunks is close, he makes his hips slam down harder, causing them both to cry out. Trunks takes back control, so Goten wraps both of his arms around his body, holding him tight. Trunks’ name falls from his lips as he feels hot, thick liquid spritzing his stomach. It doesn’t take much more for Goten to finish, and they are both left to sit there, snuggled together, trying to catch their stolen breaths back.

Goten feels Trunks head shift on his shoulder, but otherwise, makes no move to get up. “Fuck you... I’m tired now.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Goten asks, his lips brushing against Trunks’ cheek.

“It is when you’ve got a paper to write. I’m going to take a nap.” Trunks’ head turns to regard the clock on the desk behind them, which stated that it was well into the night. “Or just go to sleep. Again, fuck you, Goten.”

Goten helps Trunks pull his legs from the chair. When Trunks moves towards his bed, Goten tugs his condom off quickly—they really only used them when they weren’t trying to make a mess—and ran up behind his retreating boyfriend. He wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted him off his feet. Trunks laughed and protested while Goten ran them the rest of the way there, before plopping them both onto Trunks’ bed.

“ _Goodnight_ ,” Goten sings in his face.

Trunks rolls his eyes. “Don’t be annoying.”

“If I wasn’t annoying you’d be bored all the time.” Goten kisses Trunks’ nose, before rolling over to face the opposite way.

Trunks blinks, because isn’t this the part where Goten spoons up behind him like a leech. An annoying, heavy, love leech?

Trunks blinks again, because Goten still hasn’t turned over, and despite the blankets on his bed, he’s feeling rather cold.

Goten gave a very fake snore, and Trunks felt his brow twitch.

He wanted to cuddle; he always wanted to cuddle. Trunks was what you would call, a ‘closet-cuddlier’ and he had no problems admitting that... to himself. He didn’t really have to admit it to anyone else, because Goten always started it anyway. Except times like this, apparently, when he knew that Trunks wanted to fucking cuddle and had to be fucking _difficult_ about it.

He doesn’t understand why no one will believe him when he says Goten is a manipulative little _shit_.

Determinedly ignoring his burning cheeks, he rolls over and draws up his knees to align with Goten’s. His arm comes up to wrap around Goten’s waist, and immediately Goten’s hand is pulling on his wrist to bring him closer. Trunks is still very annoyed, because Goten sort of tricked him, but decided to let it go, and snuggle up closer.

They don’t normally do it this way. Since Goten always starts it, he always the one draping over Trunks’ body like a humanoid blanket. Trunks will, once again, admit to himself that he likes Goten’s chest against his back and his arms around him, just as he likes the way Goten’s weight holds him down when he’s draped on top of him. He _definitely_ knows that Goten likes it too.

Trunks nuzzles his face into the back of Goten’s neck and thinks that holding him this way isn’t too bad either.

He closes his eyes, comforted against the warmth of Goten’s skin, and decides that his paper could wait until tomorrow.


	12. Candy Canes

#12- Candy Canes

Word Count: 1444

* * *

Goten yawned loudly whilst his arms stretched far over his head. The sun was shining in from the window, and Goten welcomed the bright greeting.

Turning his head, he smiled at the unconscious body next to his. Trunks’ back was facing him, as was his wildly sprawled lavender hair; the blanket had fallen to their waists in the middle of the night. His body rose and fell with his even breaths, but Trunks wouldn’t be snoring this close to awakening. Goten was a bit disappointed; Trunks’ little snores were _so_ adorable.

Goten rolled over and nuzzled his face into Trunks’ back. He shifted and grunted. Goten latched his lips to the middle of Trunks’ upper back and licked and sucked until he groaned loudly in protest.

“What are you doing to me? _Stoooop_ ,” Trunks whined, batting Goten away.

Goten rested his chin on Trunks’ shoulder. “Come on, babe. It’s time to wake up.”

“Stop calling me that. Now, kindly fuck off and wake me up at a godlier hour.”

With that, Trunks scooted away and pointedly clutched the pillow beneath his head tighter.

Goten looked over at the clock, which stated it was almost ten o’clock—looks like he was going to miss school today, oops—and wondered what constituted as a ‘godly hour’ for Trunks.

With another big yawn, he kicked his feet over the edge of the bed. He reached down and grabbed Trunks’ discarded pajamas pants, and as afterthought, also grabbed Trunks’ university hoodie that lied on the floor by the desk. He didn’t really have an issue with walking around Trunks’ otherwise unoccupied dorm room with his beautiful butt exposed, but it was cold, and we all know how Goten feels about _that_.

“Trunks,” he spoke, “where is your heat-thingy? ...Thermostat, whatever,” Goten corrected himself.

“Over there,” Trunks grumbled, waving his arm in a direction that Goten was almost certain no thermostat existed.

With a roll of his eyes, he walked over to the frosted window. Snow was falling from the sky at an alarming rate, and from how miserable the people below looked, he could assume that it was quite cold. Goten wanted to whine, because he did not want to think about the fact that he would have to fly through that later today (his mother would _not_ be pleased if he missed two days of school in a row for no good reason, and he didn’t have the willpower to argue with her about it when she was just going to be right in the end). Goten didn’t like the cold, if that wasn’t obvious already.

Annoyed, Goten turned and stomped in the other direction. When he stopped by the desk, he searched for something to snack on. He was hungry, but didn’t have enough drive to go and find an actual breakfast.

On first glance, all that could be seen was a nearly empty bag of Cheetos. Goten picked up the bag and dipped the corner into his mouth, trailing the contents onto his tongue. This was not enough, but Goten was rather good at scrounging together edible things, and he was confident that there was more to be found on this simple desktop.

With that, he shifted papers—he sure hoped they weren’t specifically organized, because if they were, someone was going to be hella pissed later, and it was not going to be him—and moved textbooks aside. There was food on this desk—he was _sure_ of it—and he would find it.

Of course, being that he is Son Goten, he was inevitably triumphant. Underneath a few papers he found a bunch of white and red candy canes. The bundle was tied together with frilly green string, with a note attached to it reading, ‘I HOPE YOUR HOLIDAYS ARE AS SWEET AS YOU ARE! ~ _Jolie Jessup_ ’

Goten took the candy sticks and walked back over to the bed. He sat down and folded his legs underneath himself to keep his feet warm as he ripped one of the treats out of the plastic wrap. “Who’s Joree Jassup? Is she your _girlfriend_?” Goten jostled Trunks’ shoulder.

“Jo _lie_ J _e_ ssup,” Trunks corrects. He hums sleepily, “And yeah, sorry for keeping it a secret. She’s the love of my life. I think I might ask her to marry me and carry all twelve of my offspring once a godlier hour approaches.”

Goten lifts an amused eyebrow. “I hate to break it to you, boo, but it's ten o’clock and time for you to join us conscious folk.”

Trunks groaned loudly and buried himself further in his pillow. If there was one thing Trunks loved, it was definitely sleep.

Goten smiled and fondly shook his head as he slid the end of his candy cane into his mouth. The candy had a strong flavor of sweet mint, which would undoubtedly give him a headache if he ate too many. He didn’t particularly care though, and bit off the end of his treat.

It didn’t take him long to finish the first one. When the last of the red-white candy was gone, he grabbed another, pulled the wrapper off, and sucked on the end of it. Dragging the candy between his lips, he trailed his eyes over to his resting lover. Trunks was lying there on his side with his lavender hair widely splayed around his head. His brows were drawn, as he clutched the pillow closer to his face.

It was early morning, and Trunks _had_ to be just as hungry as him. Why should Goten be stingy with his—stolen—treats, when his love clearly needed them just as much?

Goten braced his hand on Trunks’ bicep and rolled him onto his back. The older boy grunted and cracked his slightly crusty eyes open. With the thumb of his free hand, Goten pulled Trunks’ bottom lip down. He then used his other hand to lower the end of his previously-sucked candy cane into Trunks’ mouth. Trunks’ brow arched in confusion, and Goten replied by looping his fingers in the hooked part of the candy cane, and pulling the treat. When the candy was almost past Trunks’ lips, Goten pushed it back in.

The sleepy-haze cleared almost immediately from Trunks’ eyes, and his cheeks flushed brightly, but he did not protest. He only stared back at Goten with slightly-lidded eyes, as the candy was pushed back and forth between his lips.

Goten could feel his own cheeks redden as he maneuvered the cane. This was kind of... _sexy_. At least, more than Goten had intended it to be.

And then, when Goten didn’t think it could get any better, Trunks began to _suck_ on the treat in his mouth. His cheeks still burned, but his eyes held Goten prisoner as he opened his lips to expose his tongue swirling around the thinning stick.

Goten felt a groan rumble in his chest. Trunks was too sexy for his own good.

When Goten figured he was beginning to lose too much control of himself, he pulled the candy from Trunks’ lips and brought down his own. Trunks’ lips tasted like mint, as did the inside of his mouth when Trunks sucked Goten’s tongue just like he did the candy cane. One of his hands curled in Goten’s dark hair, while the other one wrapped around Goten’s slim waist. Goten let himself be snuggled and kissed as he cradled Trunks’ face in his hands, not bothering to fight the stirring he feels below his beltline. Forget sex etiquette. Goten certainly wasn’t above fucking at ten in the morning.

Or he wasn’t, at least, until a fist started banging loudly on the door.

“Trunks, I’m back! If your boyfriend is there, _please_ make sure he's dressed. I’m tired to seeing his pale ass all over my place of comfort!” Goten hears Tyrese call. Goten only recognized a few of the English words, but he figured by the way Trunks started frantically scrambling to find himself some clothes that whatever Tyrese said had been pretty rude.

Goten leaned back and watched as Trunks shuffled about, trying to make himself seem like he _hadn’t_ been thoroughly fucked last night. The striking minx from earlier was long gone and the more familiar boy—who to the naked eye seemed to be a complete moralist regarding all things sexual—was back. Goten didn’t mind though, because he loved this familiar boy to death.

He placed the sticky candy cane back in his own mouth as Trunks swung the door open to greet Tyrese, who was giving him a rather suspicious look.

Besides, Goten doubted he would have any problem bringing that minx back later. Wink. 


	13. Blizzard

#13- Blizzard

Word Count: 1399

* * *

It took just about all Goten’s willpower to not drag his feet pathetically while he exited his school. Snow whipped at his face the moment he stumbled from the doorway. He squints his eyes against the tiny white bullets and wrapped his arms around himself to preserve his precious body heat. He nearly slips down the stone steps and really it was a wonder that they did not cancel school all together. All the weather stations had reported that a massive blizzard would be upon them within the hour, along with an almost certain prediction of a city-wide power outage.

A bit daunting, but Goten would not be deterred. If he was going to be stuck inside anywhere, it would be cuddled up with Trunks in the good old US of A.

He bids his close acquaintances farewell before dashing down the street. He ducks down alley after alley until his position is discreet enough to fly off. Once he is in the air, however, he does not head west. Instead, he sets off towards his own home, or more specifically, the forests of Mt. Paozu.

He _would_ be going to America, but he had a job to do first. So off he went, determined and very hopeful that the information his geology teacher had given him wasn’t complete bullshit.

XXX

Goten was experiencing rather mixed emotions while he left the cave deep in the woods several miles from his home. On the one hand, he could gladly say that his teacher had _not_ been bullshitting him, and he successfully found what he was looking for. One the other, he was quite sure that the water flooding inside the cave had permanently fucked his shoes, and he _still_ had to walk back outside into snowy hell.

He truly had not been inside the cave that long, but apparently it was enough time for the storm to completely ravage the clearing. A monsoon of snow swirled threatening through the air, so hardly anything but white could be seen. The once peaceful white trees whipped wildly like leaves in a breeze, and the plethora of branches strewn about the ground beneath the trees proved they were losing the battle. Even the normally peaceful lake was lapping dangerously in the action of the storm.

Goten thought back to several months ago. It had been his birthday, and he remembered jumping into that same lake with Trunks trapped in his arms. He had swum with Trunks in that lake, completely wrecked him against a huge rock in that lake, and finally swam back from that lake to a bunch of cool presents and a very uncomfortable-looking Piccolo. It had been such a perfect day then. Now it was just miserable and _cold_.

Everything was better in summer.

Goten stood at the mouth of the cave with his arms crossed, very annoyed. He couldn’t wait it out; he had no idea how long he would have to stay here before the storm finally calmed. Trunks would be wondering where he was, and his mother would be pissed if he didn’t call her. One or the other would have to happen soon, given that his cell phone was currently on 2% battery power—he was starting to regret his decision to watch ‘Vines that keep me from ending it all’ compilation videos on his phone for two class periods straight—right now. The latter especially couldn't happen while out here, for he was rather hesitant to speak to his slightly overprotective mother with the sound of frosty Armageddon going on in the background.

Cursing his foul luck, he swung his backpack off his back and opened it. He then took his newly found object from the cave and buried it deep into the bag (it wouldn’t do for Trunks’ nosy ass to stumble upon which was currently none of his business). Once the object was secure, he slung the bag back onto his shoulders and trekked out into the blizzard.

Goten couldn’t disclose the information of _what_ he had just placed in his backpack to _anyone_. The reason being that said object was to be a surprise for Trunks, to only be shared with him on the night of their anniversary. Or... what Goten _supposed_ their anniversary was. Would their anniversary still be the first of January if they had technically broken up? They had been broken up for like all of four days, but he was pretty sure it still counted. He was still too afraid to ask Trunks where _he_ stood on the issue. As was said before, they didn’t indulge in this line of talk. Ever. They avoided conversation of this matter like the plague.

That thought, of course, only served to make his already foul mood fouler. He doesn’t think he’s ever had such a hard time flying before. He didn’t dare go faster than the steady pace he was currently maintaining, but that did little to help against the wind that was whipping hard at his already cold body. His eyes were narrowed till he could hardly see against the sharp snow that scrapped at his frozen, red cheeks, and his arms were crossed so tightly over his chest that it was nearly painful.

He stopped flying when he felt his cell phone buzzing in the back pocket of his pants. Of _all_ times, who and the _fuck_ was calling him?!

On the screen was a picture of a lavender-haired boy giving him the middle finger, with the contact name reading ‘Babe’.

His mood immediately brightened.

He stuffed the phone up under his hat to reach his ear. “Hey, babe!”

Goten had to cover his other ear to hear Trunks over the roaring winds. “Where are you? Have you left Japan yet?”

“Uh...” He regarded his shitty surroundings. “No, I... don’t _think_ I have.”

There was silence for a moment—probably Trunks fighting the urge to call him an ‘idiot’ or some other rude name—before he finally sighed. “Goten, you have to stay there. I don’t want you flying through this.”

“Why? You callin’ me weak, babe?” Goten blew air through his gloved-hand, trying in vain to warm up his frozen fingers.

“No, because they’ve closed all the flights in and out of Japan, which I suppose means _nothing_ should be flying in general. Just stay there and you can come down when the weather clears.”

“ _Nooo_ ,” Goten whined. “I don’t want to be stuck in a house with Gohan and my _mother_! Besides, I’m already on my way,” and before Trunks could protest, “I’ll see you when I get there. Love you, baby!”

“Goten you better no—” Goten hears before Trunks’ voice cuts off. He didn’t mean to hang up on Trunks, but it was quite windy, and naturally, because the universe didn’t think he had suffered enough today, his phone blew right out of his hand.

Panic overtook Goten and he immediately dived after it, weaving through wild tree branches in his determined pursuit to save his piece of shit phone from a terrible (and very expensive) fate. He had nearly reached it when he heard a loud cracking right over his head.

He whipped around just as the branch above him broke from the tree, which, naturally, had an icicle nearly the size of his whole body attached to it. Both objects were coming right at him and seemed very eager to impale him to death.

Goten sped out of the way as quickly as he could, successfully evading the rather frighteningly sharp point of the ice. Unfortunately, he was not able to get out of the way quick enough to avoid the opposite, fatter end of the ice, which in turn also meant he got smacked across the face with the tree branch.

He’s embarrassed to say the impact brought stars to his eyes and caused his Ki to falter.

He grasps the sore spot on his forehead while his body simultaneously spins out of control, out of the trees, and out into the open. His head hurts, rather badly in fact, but Goten has suffered worse than a sharp blow to gorgeous face.

With that in mind, he gathers his bearings to begin flying again. He just barely has the necessary Ki pushed to his feet, when his back slams hard against a frigid surface, and he’s completely submerged in the icy lake.

_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering what ‘object’ Goten has, it’s a surprise tool that will help us later. (Insert every episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse).


	14. Blizzard II

#14- Blizzard II

Word Count: 1261

* * *

" _AHHHHH_!" Goten screams, leaping high out of the frigid water.

He floats high above the ground for a moment, panting and shivering as he tries to comprehend the past fifteen seconds.

 _‘I fell into the lake,’_ his thoughts supply helpfully. _‘I fell into the lake during the worst snowstorm of the year and my ass cheeks might literally be freezing off. That is what happened.’_

Out loud, he promises with a nod, “No one must ever know.”

With chattering teeth, he lowers himself from the sky away from the water. Once his feet sink into the snow, he wraps his soggy, wet arms around himself. He was soaked through—which was rather unfortunate for the history assignment in his backpack and his _phone_ —but at least his 'surprise' was safe. In addition, he was more than a little pissed off, but standing in the cold wasn't going to help his situation. He had come this far—even though it really wasn’t that far in retrospect—he might as well keep going.

He also didn’t fancy having his mother yell at him for being out in the middle of a snowstorm with sopping wet clothes. Yes, continuing forward to the other side of the world was definitely the best option.

Exhaling roughly, he floated back into the air. He was surprisingly exhausted, but he still forced his Ki to propel him forward in the direction that was _out_ of this gods-forsaken forest.

He flew as fast as he dared, his body shivering all the way. He tried to remember some survival methods he'd seen on late-night television. Was he, or was he not supposed to remove all of his wet clothing? But that didn't make sense. He would be naked, and even _colder_!

In the end, he kept his clothes on.

It wasn't long before he was out of the forest, and then out of Japan. The blizzard lessened the farther out he got—particularly when he flew over the Atlantic ocean—but not enough to clear his path, or to stop irritating his eyes. He flew on though, wishing so desperately that he could go super Saiyan to warm up, but it would just be a waste of his time. He didn't think he had the necessary energy to attempt it as quickly and discreetly as he normally could. No point in drawing attention to himself by causing his erratic energy to disturb the land around him. The other Z-fighters might think he was in trouble when he wasn’t.

_No one must ever know._

Batting away the thoughts of how _warm_ he’d be in his super state, Goten stopped flying and lowered down to the ground. Mainly because there was a city approaching him and he didn’t want to risk trying to fly higher into the sky. Partially because he was getting alarmingly tired.

"This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation," he muttered with no amount of irony to himself as he touched down in the forest clearing just outside the city. He was pretty sure he was in America, considering all the advertisements displayed in English ahead of him, he just wasn't sure _where_. He could see the tiny figures of people in the distance as he dragged his waterlogged boots along, but he wasn't going to bother asking for directions. His English was awful, and he was too cold to waste his time.

Just as he was stopping to take a break on a toppled-over log—and possibly a nap—a tiny, steadily-growing object caught his attention. He looked up, and gaped at the sight.

Up above him was Trunks, blocking out the sun with his body. Goten smiled; he was saved!

The smile slipped from his face though, when he noticed the way his love was seething, no small amount of pure anger shining through his blue eyes behind his glasses. "WHAT THE _FUCK_?!"

“Uh oh,” Goten mumbled, as Trunks dropped down in front of him. Goten barely had time to blink when Trunks’ hand was slapping across his frozen cheek.

“Ow. Nice to see you too,” he said, rubbing his abused skin. He supposed he deserved that.

“I am _so_ pissed with you right now,” Trunks said with a growl under his voice.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Goten replies, a bit ashamed.

Trunks pinched the damp fabric of his coat and furrowed his brow. “Why are you wet?”

Goten quickly shakes his head. “I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Trunks blinked at him. Goten wasn’t quite sure he would get away with it, when Goten saw something small break through the anger in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Goten said, feeling like a right asshole. Trunks had nothing to say to the guilt on his face, because he was too busy shucking the wet coat off him and pulling off his soaking hat, leaving him in his grey sweater and pants. He threw the coat and hat down onto the snow.

“Stupid asshole, walks around freezing himself to death, worrying the hell outta me,” Trunks mutters to himself as he tears off his own coat and manhandles Goten’s arms into it.

The anger was primarily back again when Trunks said, “I’ll buy you a new coat. Now come _on_ , dammit.”

Goten complied and wrapped his arm around Trunks’ shoulder while Trunks wrapped his arm around his waist. With the other boy’s added energy, Goten was able to get himself into the air. They flew high until they were hidden by the low clouds, and the gentle lull of their controlled speed made Goten even more exhausted, and he entertained the thought of letting Trunks carry him. He didn’t though, because he was seventeen years old and didn’t need to be carried, but also because he didn’t want Trunks to think there was something _else_ wrong with him aside from a bad case of the chills.

His resolve lasted about an additional two minutes. Trunks said nothing as he dragged the entirety of his weight along.

Goten trailed his eyes over. He didn’t like the quiet; it was unsettling him.

“Hey,” he said.

Trunks hummed shortly in reply.

Goten leaned his head against lavender hair. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Out the corner of his eye, he could see Trunks’ expression soften just a bit. “Don’t do it again, asshole.”

Goten smiled, because yeah Trunks was still pissed with him, but at least they’d be okay. “Alright, I promise.”

They are silent the rest of the way, and Goten doesn’t mind one bit.

XXX

It’s not long until they finally arrive at the campus. Goten can already see the window he’s been flying in and out of for the past four months, completely wide open.

 _‘Aw. He was in a hurry to find me.’_ Goten had already assumed so, considering that Trunks was out in public with _glasses_ on— _gasp_! —but another reminder wasn’t such a bad thing. It made him feel all cozy inside.

When their feet hit the threshold of the window, Goten pushed himself inside. He stumbled about the room, as whole new wave of exhaustion washed over him. He toed off his boots and stumbled over to the nearest bed, immediately plopping down onto it.

“Wait, Goten! That’s Tyrese’s bed, and he’s got—”

By now, Goten has stopped listening, because he’s tired and is quite certain that Tyrese—wherever he is—will understand and be glad to help Goten in his time of need.

With that comforting thought, he closes his eyes and allows sleep to overtake him.


	15. Flu

#15- Flu

Word Count: 1508

* * *

The flu.

Tyrese had the fucking flu.

Goten's cough was deep and loud, racking his ribs so painfully that he didn’t even bother fighting his pitiful moan. His throat was sore, his nose was stuffed, and his body ached. He was tired, his headache was agonizing, and he felt cold all the way down to his bones despite his impressive temperature of 104.

Fuck the flu.

Fuck winter.

Well, not ‘fuck winter’ he supposed, because Trunks was quick to tell him (whilst simultaneously jabbing him in the throat with a thermometer) that his sickness was not from the cold weather—that was apparently a 'myth'—but from the fact that he laid his head on Tyrese's used pillow. The reason why Tyrese was not in the dorm room, Goten learned, was that he was staying with Erana, who was nursing him back to health.

 _'Well then,'_ Goten thought, _'fuck Tyrese, too.'_

... And keep the 'fuck winter', simply because it was a shitty season. A shitty season associated with the shitty flu.

"You alright, you big baby?" Trunks' voice called from his desk while he typed on his computer. His adorable black frames were still across his face as he turned his attention to the weakened Son.

"What are you doing?" Goten asked.

"Studying. Why, are you hungry? I can go to that restaurant down the street. They've got the best soup in town and won't get pissed if I buy out their inventory."

" _Noooo_ , I don't want food," Goten whined. "I want _you_." He finished off his plea by holding out his arms and wiggling his fingers invitingly.

Trunks rolled his eyes, but nonetheless stood from his chair and crossed over towards the bed. Goten scooted over to make room, and Trunks dutifully slid underneath the covers next to him. They laid on their sides, facing each other, but Goten had no fears of passing his sickness. Trunks was rich, and supposedly had the 'best medicine money could offer'. Goten didn't really care for the details, just so long as his boyfriend didn't get sick.

(And he wasn’t jealous at all, no sir, not one bit.)

"When do you have to leave for class?" Goten asks, grabbing Trunks' hand.

Trunks peered through his glasses down at the watch on his wrist. "In about an hour, but I can stay if you want me to. I've already got all the shit I'll need for winter break, anyway."

Goten hummed in approval. He didn’t want to be the type of boyfriend who would come between Trunks’ education, but if Trunks was _offering_...

Goten kisses his nose. "Thank you for taking care of me. You're actually not that bad at dealing with sick people. Why aren't you in medical school again?"

Trunks rolls his eyes. "Because medical school isn’t going to teach me how to run the most successful business on the planet one day. And it's not like I really did anything. I just did what your mother _screamed_ at me to do."

Goten bites back another giggle. It had been such a dick move to laugh at the time, but Trunks’ traumatized expression while his mother blew his eardrums out over the phone about proper healthcare was simply too much for Goten to bare.

Abruptly, Goten shoots up and barely has time to fold his arm over his mouth before hacking coughs rock his body. Once the spell passes, he reaches over and grabs a tissue to blow his nose. Once _that_ is done, he tosses the tissue towards the trashcan and falls back heavily onto the bed, groaning loudly as he buries his face into Trunks' pillow.

Trunks gives him a pitying look before rolling onto his stomach to pull his vibrating cell phone out of his back pocket. Goten tries to spy, but he can’t make out anything worthwhile on the screen in the reflection of Trunks’ glasses. There must be something there, though, because Trunks frowns deeply before stuffing the cellphone back into his pocket.

"What?" Goten questions.

Trunks curls up on their shared pillow and closes his eyes. "Nothing."

Any other time, Goten definitely would have pushed the issue, but right now he just isn't feeling up to it. Instead—so that the silence doesn't put him to sleep—he says, "Speak foreign to me."

"Huh?"

"Speak foreign to me," Goten repeats.

"... Why?"

"Because I'm bored, and you sound really sexy when you say shit I can't understand. Come on, speak Spanish to me, _baaaby_ ," Goten says, wiggling his shoulders in a little dance.

Trunks blinks, before saying, " _You know, you're such an idiot. Who the fuck flies through a blizzard in wet clothes just to spend, like, two extra days with his boyfriend? Dorks like you, that’s who. You were probably something like a dodo bird, or a turkey, or one of those deer that wait specifically for a car to come before hoping out into the middle of the street in a past life. I won't hold all the blame to you, though. You can't help that you are a dork._ "

Goten smiles and pulls Trunks' hand to his lips for a sweet kiss. He speaks against his knuckles: "Do more—Italian."

"I don't know Italian that well," Trunks replies. He still clears his throat, and speaks with a hint of a smile, " _Remember two years ago when that brunette girl you were flirting with dumped all her fries on your head when you asked her out? The reason I laughed is because I paid her fifty bucks to do so. I won’t say sorry because I cherish that memory close to my heart. I chuckle about it at least once a day._ ”

Goten feels a bit of warmth pooling in his stomach, because whatever Trunks had said sounded _really_ romantic. Goten supposed that was why they were called ‘romance’ languages.

Trunks rolls his eyes at Goten’s smile, because it is the only way to keep from bursting out laughing. "Can I stop now?"

"No, come on, speak French now." Trunks was almost as good at French as he was at English.

Trunks sighs and looks away. His cheeks begin to flush pink, and Goten thinks that’s very interesting.

" _Okay so I know it benefits literally no one for me to ask you this in French, but could we go to the Pont des Arts bridge in France for our anniversary? I think it would be... cute for us to put a lock on the bridge. I know asking like this isn’t going to get us anywhere but I’m embarrassed, okay? There, I admitted it. I said I would work on it, alright, don’t give me that look. Or well, I guess you’re not really giving me a look because you don’t actually know what I’m saying but I know you_ want _to give me a look and I’m telling you to knock it off, alright? Or I guess you probably wouldn’t actually give me a look because you’re all sentimental and would probably think it’s cute too but I’m not willing to take that chance. I have my pride too you know and... and I’m not only rambling but also arguing with myself, fuck. Uh, well, I love you, I guess. I am only saying that because it's probably the only phrase you’ll understand in whatever this mess of word vomit was. You should really work on your French.”_

Trunks ends with a deep breath and a very, very red face.

Goten blinks once, twice, before giving a sweet smile. "It's like liquid romance to my ears."

Trunks narrows his brow. "You're going to make me do English now, aren't you?"

"You know me well." Goten leans up and kisses his cheek. "Come on, this is the last one, I promise." Goten wasn't even sure he could stay awake long enough to hear more.

"Fine," Trunks clears his throat. " _You are such a dork. It's hilarious how you think I was saying cute stuff to you just now, when in actuality, I was making fun of you and requesting for something that I'm too embarrassed to ask for in a language you can understand. I'd say, ‘I feel bad’, but I don’t, and I will definitely have a good laugh about this later. Maybe if you had paid attention in English class, you would understand what I'm saying. But, just in case you did pay attention to anything our teacher taught us, I will say 'I love you' again. You should understand that. Dork_."

Trunks peered down to see Goten's eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with his staggered breaths. If he wasn’t asleep yet, he was certainly close enough. Trunks kissed his brow before grabbing his cellphone again. Once he was sure that Goten was asleep he would run to the restaurant down the street and pick up some soup that he would undoubtedly have to force Goten to eat later.

Chi Chi could complain about his competence all she wanted—Trunks made a _damn_ fine nurse.


	16. Quilts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble includes oral sex.

#16- Quilts

Word Count: 1452

* * *

Goten hung from the ceiling, completely and utterly bored. He wasn't feeling as ill as before—his fever had broken during the night—but they were still at the campus. Most everyone else had already left by car, but Trunks thought they should wait until later that night to fly home, for weather purposes. Goten knew better than to argue about the matter so soon after his ‘mishap’, but this whole ordeal would be far more tolerable if Trunks didn’t have to be such a _nerd_ about it!

_"I might as well start my assignments now," Trunks had told him earlier that evening. "I'm just going to procrastinate later, when I actually have other shit to do."_

_"_ I _am 'shit to do' right_ now _!" Goten protested._

_Trunks gave a hint of a smirk. "Do y’all hear something? Sounds like a pest that should stop bothering me and go entertain itself."_

And so, without his cellphone to distract him—damn blizzard blowing it to its demise and damn lake water for finishing the job—he found himself sitting cross-legged on the ceiling, trying desperately to amuse himself. Right beneath him sat Trunks at that damn desk, with his legs hidden by a long quilt (Goten himself was cold, but of course Trunks wasn't going to _offer_ him one or anything). His only comment to Goten's position being, _"You better not get any dandruff on me!"_

Goten had already ran his fingers through his hanging hair and can vouch that he does not have dandruff. He scratched his fingers against his scalp really hard just in case, and hopes that _something_ fell on Trunks. It would serve him right.

He can't stay upset with Trunks though, because even from his position on the ceiling, he can tell that his boyfriend is wound tighter than a screw. Waves of nerves seemed as though they were _pouring_ off of Trunks as he cradled his head with his hand, and he scratched his pencil against the notebook paper with the other.

(To top it off, he kept looking at his cellphone, frowning or quietly cursing, but Goten was still in the dark as to _why_.)

Goten smiled—he thought it was kind of cool that while upside down, it was technically a frown—because he was _very_ good getting Trunks to 'unwind'. Also, he was beginning to make a connection between Trunks writing papers, that office chair, and sex.

He was beginning to like that office chair.

With that in mind, he released his energy to float down. He flipped over, and promptly sat himself across Trunks' blanket-covered lap.

"What are you doing?" Trunks questions him, his eyes wide from surprise while his hands fell instinctively to Goten's waist.

Goten's kneaded his fingers on Trunks' shoulders. "I'm bored and you're stressed out. Why don't we do something about that?"

Goten leaned in, only to have Trunks turn his head to the side. Goten was undeterred.

" _Goten_ ," Trunks says almost breathlessly while the other boy sucked and licked on his warm, red cheek and ear. "Can't we do this later? I just want to finish the first three rough-draft pages."

"Fine, be that way," Goten says, and slides down from Trunks lap until he’s under the desk. His foot bumps against the trash bin, and well, he was kind of too big to be down here, but he is not discouraged by this factor. He pulls the bottom of the quilt over his head until his whole body is nearly completely covered.

"What are you doing?" Trunks questions as his knees were spread apart.

Goten peeks out from the quilt. "You told me to stop bothering you and entertain myself. Well, I'm doing just that. Now leave me alone and write your stupid rough-draft." Goten drops the cover back over his head.

"This _is_ bothering me!" Trunks protests. Goten does not reply but rather rubs his cheek against his boyfriend's crotch. Trunks' thighs twitch.

Goten smirks to himself, then shifts his face to spread firm kisses. He then brings his hands up to unbutton Trunks’ jeans, and carefully pull down the zipper. He couldn’t see much with the blanket hiding the light, but he could still see Trunks’ dark navy boxers, and the print of his growing interest.

Goten hums and nuzzles his face against it. Trunks fidgets as Goten darts his tongue out and licks a line up the fabric, spreads more kisses, and latches on to give tiny sucks.

“ _Goten_ ,” Trunks says, squirming underneath the Son’s tongue. He can’t tell if Trunks’ voice is urging him off, or urging him _on_.

Just in case it’s the first reason—and for his own amusement—he peeks out from the blanket, and says, “Vegeta Trunks Brief, how many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone and stop bothering me? I’m _trying_ to do something here, if you have not noticed.”

Trunks glares at him. Goten’s only reply was a grin and a wink, before he dived under the quilt again.

Once he’s settled he grabs the hem of Trunks’ briefs—pun intended—and pulls them down until the full package is revealed. Goten presses his nose in the space just underneath Trunks’ prick and rubs. Trunks squeaks: “ _G-Goten_!”

The Son in question ignores him and dartd out his tongue, licking and kissing around the base. He trailed his lips and tongue up as he did so, until he was finally at the top. He swirled his tongue around the tip, holding the base with his hand to keep it in place.

“ _Nngh_ ,” Goten hears Trunks moan as his knees shift again.

After a final lick, he slips the tip into his mouth, bobbing his head ever so slightly. Trunks is warm and heavy against his tongue, and he gladly slides a bit more inside. Trunks’ toes are curling, and his feet rub restlessly against the carpet as Goten picks up a steady rhythm. He’s pretty sure he could do better, but his nose is still a bit stuffed so it’s rather difficult to breath. He doesn’t let that stop him though, and after every break he takes, he dips back down with even more vigor.

He hears a little _snap_ amid Trunks’ little pants. He lifts the quilt over his head just so, and sees that only half of his mechanical pencil is still being squeezed in Trunks’ fist. His eyes are closed, his cheeks are deeply pink, and his lips are open as tiny moans and gasps fall from them. His assignment appears to be long forgotten.

Goten, satisfied with the sight, drops the blanket back over his head. He actually wouldn’t mind watching Trunks’ face while he sucked him off, but he wanted to keep up the little game they were playing. Or at least, the game _he_ was playing.

With the fingers he’s got wrapped around Trunks’ base, he twists his hand in circles, as his head bobs. When Goten needs air, he pulls off, jacks his fist, and licks and kisses until he’s ready to put Trunks in his mouth again. He does this over and over, his jaw getting a bit tired, but Trunks only getting ever so louder.

Then, almost shockingly, Trunks’ hand is pressing on the back of Goten’s head through the quilt. Goten, triumphant, lets Trunks push him deep, and guide his head back and forth. Trunks’ moaning sends shoots of desire through Goten, as his knees squeeze tight against his pale shoulders.

“Goten,” Trunks moans over and over, his hand fisting the quilt and Goten’s hair underneath it. “Goten... Goten... _Goten_.”

The Son hums as if Trunks is asking him a question, and then hollows his cheeks.

The fingers in his hair tighten. “I’m going to... _nngh. Ah_!”

He hears Trunks groan out, and then there is hot, thick cum all over his tongue. Goten sucks and jerks until Trunks is done, before letting him slip wetly from his lips. While Trunks fights for his breath back, he leans over towards the waste bin and lets the bitter fluid slip out of his mouth. Swallower he was not.

Goten, utterly satisfied, crawls out from under the desk. He makes his way to Trunks’ bed, climbs up, and lies back with his hands behind his head. Trunks glares at him, but the effect is completely ruined by how wrecked he looks. Goten, with equally flushed cheeks enhanced by his pale skin and dark hair, replies by crossing his ankles, and smirking with his reddened, slightly-swollen lips.

Trunks glares for a second longer, before fishing out a new pencil and returning to his work. He is, admittedly, more relaxed than before. He furrows his brow in annoyance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I greatly enjoy the ‘do yall hear sumn’ meme and I’ll be very sad when it is no longer relevant.


	17. Gingerbread Cookies

#17- Gingerbread Cookies

Word Count: 1029

* * *

Goten cranked his arm rhythmically to the beat of the classic Christmas song he was currently humming. When the thick batter appeared to be properly blended, he brought the spoon up to his lips and darted his tongue out to sample the sweet, cinnamon spice. Satisfied, he nearly drops the spoon back in the bowl when a hand around his wrist stops him.

"Don't you dare," Trunks says sternly, his brows narrowed.

Goten grins at being caught and says softly, "It's not like you don't have my saliva in your mouth and _other_ places on a regular basis."

" _Goten_!" Trunks hisses just as quietly, his eyes darting over to his father. The man—thankfully—does not react to the suggestive statement. He remains completely oblivious as he naps away on the living-room couch.

Goten snickers while he washes off the spoon. He was almost sure that Vegeta couldn't hear a thing they were saying—the man slept almost as deeply as Trunks—but Goten knew better than to press his luck, hence why Trunks wasn't currently being passionately kissed on one of these countertops with delicious cookie batter all over him. That, and there were also children around, and Goten didn't really want to deal with two traumatized, demi-saiyan girls _on top of_ a pissed-off, _full_ -saiyan daddy.

"Here," Goten passed over a tray of a cooled-off batch of gingerbread. "Take this over to the girls."

Trunks takes the pan and delivers it to the dining room table, where Bra and Pan were decorating houses and gingerbread men (gingerbread _people_ , Bra had vehemently corrected). The girls seemed to be enjoying themselves, and even helped with the cooking a bit. Baking this much food was tiresome—Chi Chi could _certainly_ vouch for that—but why give all the work to little robots when there was so much fun to be had doing it together?

Goten, unlike his father and brother, took after his mother when it came to cooking food and baking. He may not be able to take Trunks to fancy restaurants or expensive shit like that, but he could certainly cook him an equally bomb ass meal. Goten took pride in that.

Several moments later, while Goten was preparing another batch for the oven, Trunks returned to the kitchen. He said nothing as he slumped forward against the counter and frowned at the cellphone in his hands. Goten had the nagging desire to slap his hand across Trunks poked-out butt.

He doesn’t (the noise just _might_ be enough to wake Vegeta). Instead, he cuddles up behind him and wraps his arms tight around his slim waist. Goten rests his chin on Trunks’ shoulder, trying to inconspicuously peer down at the screen of the cell phone.

He only catches a glimpse of familiar lavender hair on the screen (a photo?) when Trunks clicks the phone off with the slightest bit of haste. He then squirms until he is free of Goten’s arms, and backs away to the other counter.

“Okay, now I’m suspicious.” Goten says.

“There’s nothing to be suspicious of,” Trunks insists, sliding his cellphone into his pocket.

Goten narrows his brow. “You say that, but it’s really hard to believe you. Why won’t you tell me?”

Trunks crosses his arms and his face hardens. “It’s really none of your business.”

_Defensive._

“What do you mean ‘it’s none of my business’?”

Trunks’ frown deepens. “I was under the impression that I was allowed to have a bit of privacy.”

Goten’s getting frustrated, but he also feels panic bubbling deep in his stomach, likes he’s getting too close to where the water isn’t safe.

“You can,” he says far too quickly. He might as well stamp ‘Panic Attack Imminent’ on his forehead. He tries again, slower, “You can, but I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting weird.”

“You don’t always have to be worried about me,” Trunks says. Goten wants to reply, but he's cut off by the ding of the oven-timer. Trunks fits an oven mitt over his hand and pulls out the pan of fresh gingerbread. Trunks ignores Goten when he walks over to stand beside him.

Undeterred, the Son reaches out and curls his fingers through Trunks’ belt loop. Trunks says nothing but dutifully allows his body to be pulled back. Goten feels the slightest relief bloom in his chest.

Goten kisses the back of his neck, and as he wraps his arms tight around Trunks’ waist and chest.

“We aren’t fighting over this, right?”

Trunk’s head falls back against Goten’s shoulder, as he exhales a bit roughly. “No, so can we stop talking about it? I _promise_ it’s nothing.”

“You’d tell me if it was though, right?”

Goten can _feel_ the way Trunks hesitates, and he hates it.

“Yeah, I promise.”

Goten doesn’t say anything else, because he doesn’t trust himself not to say anything he’ll regret later. Instead, he holds Trunks against him; at the moment, he thinks they both might need it.

When the latest batch of gingerbread people have cooled enough, Bra bounced over to retrieve them. When Trunks quietly asks for one, she jumps high, and pops two of the cookies into their awaiting mouths. She barely gives them a second glance—Goten wonders what that says about their relationship that they can stand around cuddling for no reason and hardly anyone bats an eye—as she skips away. Goten doesn’t say anything for a long time, even after he’s done chewing the cinnamon cookie. He only hugs the other boy tight against him, feeling warmth that Trunks’ words aren’t giving him.

He doesn’t say anything more on the matter though, because Trunks is letting Goten hold him, and Goten doesn’t want to argue. He doesn’t have the strength to go through that with Trunks, not anymore. Not after last summer. Goten wishes he could completely wipe those days away from his memory, even when deep down, Goten knows they shouldn’t ignore it like this.

Goten doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to fight. He would be happy if they never fought again.

So Goten says nothing, only holds Trunks’ body firmly as he swallows tightly around the rest of the gingerbread flavor. 


	18. Holiday Shopping

#18- Holiday Shopping

Word Count: 1277

* * *

Now, Goten knew that he wasn’t what someone would classify as “bright” or “intelligent”, but he didn’t think it took a rocket scientist to realize that Trunks was annoyed with him.

It was rather obvious really.

How could he not find it weird that as they walked down this semi-crowded mall hallway, their fingers were not entwined? How could he miss the fact Trunks’ eyes barely looked his way as if the love of his _life_ wasn’t with him? Seriously, no one thought it was weird that Goten was walking a few paces _behind_ Trunks, like an inmate on the way to the gallows instead of a boyfriend? Hell, they barely _spoke_. Simple phrases they said (‘let’s go in this store.’ ‘Do you think my sister will like this?’), but it wasn’t conversation, and it made Goten a bit anxious.

What had he done? Was it because of that evening in the kitchen? Did his inquiries upset Trunks that much? He hoped not but... he just didn’t understand why he was _wrong_ in this situation—if one could even call it that. They had been dating for nearly a year (sort of) and it was quite clear that he loved Trunks to death. Wasn’t he allowed to be worried if there was obviously something bothering his boyfriend, A.K.A, _best friend_?

Goten would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit annoyed with Trunks as well.

They weren’t fighting though. So, deciding not to give them any reason to, Goten wraps his coat-clad arms around his chest, looks at the pretty mall decorations, and keeps his mouth shut.

Goten thinks if the Cold War had an emotion, this would be it.

“Goten, you’re not helping me,” he hears Trunks complain.

He snaps back to attention embarrassingly like a soldier. “Huh?”

Trunks shot him a quick glare. “I need help with something to get my mother.”

“Well, what did you get her last year?” Goten had already gotten his mother’s gift: a new dress, handmade in Ox Village. His brother: some book written by the president (Trunks’ recommendation). His niece: An orange bandana and a ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ game set. For his father and Videl, well, that’s why he was here. Trunks and him (before their little quarrel) had already decided they were going to do their Christmas shopping together, and despite the tense atmosphere, Goten thought it would’ve made the “situation” even worse if he had pointedly gone by himself.

Trunks crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, which Goten had dubbed as phase one of the ‘thinking stance’. “I got her a pearl bracelet that I noticed she didn’t have already. That doesn’t help with this year.”

Goten bites back a smile and tugs his hat down further over his red-tipped ears. “And _where_ did she wear the bracelet too?”

Trunks arches his brow at him, like _he’s_ the idiot. “To her business parties, obviously. You know my mom; where else would she have worn it?”

Goten inspects his nails and waits for his boyfriend’s mind to click, in the way that it always does.

Trunks’ eyes fell to the tiles as he resumed their walking, his chin cradled in his hand. Phase two of the ‘Thinking Stance’. “She likes to wear jewelry to her business parties, and she has business parties _all_ the fucking time, and she doesn’t have a ruby necklace that I know of, which would look really good with her hair and eyes, and she can even pair it up with that black dress she bought a few months ago—or any dark dress she’s got—to add a bit of color to her outfit without it seeming like she’s trying too hard. You have no idea how often that happens. The last party I went to there was this woman wearing _vibrant_ red heels with a dress that looked like she was going to someone’s funeral. Clearly her friends did not love her. Seriously, who the fuck told her that was—oh.”

Trunks stops in his path, because it seems as though he’d brought them right outside of the jewelry store.

Goten grins at the annoyed look Trunks is giving him. “You’re welcome.”

Trunks huffs. “Don’t try to make fun of me because I have a sense of fashion, unlike you.”

Goten smiles, and with a leap of faith, curls his fingers around Trunks’. “Can I make fun of the fact that you can _ramble_ about fashion? ‘Cause that’s like, really gay.”

Goten can see small hints of the smile that Trunks is trying to hide. The tan fingers that are curled with his tighten their grip, and Goten can feel bits of relief breaking through. He just _might_ have successfully fixed whatever tension they were experiencing. Goten is glad; he can’t stand when Trunks is upset with him.

Trunks rolls his eyes, but Goten sees his smile growing as their hands slip together fully. “Whatever, let’s just get the damn neckla—”

“Oi, Brief!” Goten hears a voice he doesn’t recognize. He almost turns around, but he finds it weird that they weren’t being addressed together—it was always ‘Goten and Trunks!’, or ‘Brief and Son!’, or similar—because, well, they were always together, it was just their thing. He then remembers that he is still wearing his hat and heavy coat, so maybe they don’t notice it’s him yet.

It’s then that Goten notices Trunks’ body. The entire length of him is frozen stiff and his eyes dart skittishly past Goten to watch whoever had called his name. His brows were narrowed and his mouth was twitching in agitation.

“I’m looking to grab!” Goten hears the voice call. He’s confused on just what exactly that’s supposed to mean, and even more confused when loud, obnoxious, teen boy follows right after.

He’s definitely confused though, shocked even, by the way Trunks bares his teeth and replies with pure venom in his voice: “Fuck yourself, Nonebi.”

Nonebi? Kado Nonebi? Goten supposed he recognized him. He didn’t know much about the other guy and could really only recognize his name because they went to the same school for years. Trunks would’ve mentioned if they were not on good terms, so Goten is confused on where this sudden animosity is coming from. Also... What the hell was he talking about?

Whatever it was, it had pissed Trunks _off_ , and terribly so.

Goten doesn’t get to voice his observations, because the hand over his is tight to the point of discomfort and tugging him along. “Come on, Goten.”

Goten allows himself to be dragged along, disappointed, feeling like they were right back where they started. He picks up his pace so that they are walking—almost jogging, really—side by side. He glances over at Trunks while he tries to loosen the death grip on his hand. The older boy’s hair flops wildly as he storms off, before he uses his free hand to pull his hood up. His bright eyes are set on the sliding exit doors, his lavender brows narrowed, and his cheeks burning an angry red.

 _So beautiful,’_ Goten thinks, _‘yet so hurt, too.’_

So what now? Was Goten supposed to just... _not_ notice?

Goten directs his gaze elsewhere. He might as well try, he supposed. “Am I allowed to ask about that?”

Trunks closes his eyes and shakes his head. Goten stays quiet. What point was there in pushing it?

They leave the mall together. Both without any of the gifts they came for, and Trunks fuming so badly the concrete nearly crumbled under his feet.

As for Goten? Well, he only wondered if ‘ _trust_ ’ always felt this hollow. 


	19. Snow

#19- Snow

Word Count: 1378

* * *

“Goten, has it ever occurred to you that it would make more sense for _you_ to carry _me_ , when you want to show me a surprise?”

The Son in question wraps his legs tighter around Trunks’ waist, his hands remaining as shields over his blue eyes. “Never, not once. Now, onward. We’re almost there, babe.”

He feels Trunks bristle as the snow crunches beneath his feet. “I swear, Goten, one of these days I’m just going whip around and punch you in the face as hard as I can. You can’t even be mad at me for it.”

Goten grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll understand, babe.” Before Trunks can begin to curse him out again, he says loudly, “We’re here!”

Once he stops walking, Goten slides his legs down and leans in to kiss Trunks on the ear. He then removes his hands and wraps his arms around Trunks’ neck from behind.

The older boy is speechless for a long moment, before finally settling on: “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” Goten agrees. He had wanted to bring Trunks back here for quite some time. They had after all, had a rather eventful go of it out here, with fading sunlight and a ton of fireflies lighting up the clearing. It had been great, but that was in the summer, and he wanted Trunks to see just how different the same exact place was in the winter.

Goten did not particularly like the winter, but even he could admit that it could be breathtakingly beautiful.

The heavy snow from the night before covered the clearing in a crystalline blanket. The trees and fallen logs only had hints of brown still visible—all the rest was white powder that twinkled and glimmered in the sun. The snow fell easy and slow, and through the bare white trees he could see the lake in the distance.

He almost succumbed to the urge to stick his tongue out childishly at the partially-frozen body of water. He would not be letting go of the whole ‘cell phone thing’ any time soon.

Instead, he leans close to Trunks’ ear to ask, “You know where we are?”

He nods. “Yeah, I do.”

Goten smiles and rocks their bodies back and forth. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

Trunks turns his head, making his words brush Goten’s cheek. “I suppose so.”

Goten gives a short, little laugh. He then releases Trunks to stand in front of him. He grabs his gloved hands and swings their connected arms back and forth.

Trunks clears his throat. “My mother told me to tell you that she wants you to make some more gingerbread cookies for the Christmas Eve party.”

Goten hums. “Are you going to help me?”

“Do I have too?”

“Of course!” Goten exclaims. He releases Trunks’ hands, so he can throw his own arms in the air and spin around dramatically. “That’s the point! We can all make cookies together; you know that’s the type of shit families do. Maybe we can even get Vegeta to bake! Or _decorate_.”

Trunks crosses his arms and arches his brow. “I seriously doubt that’s going to happen.”

“Whatever,” Goten replies back with a grin. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, and just watches him. Trunks is watching him as well, his blue eyes softening and his bottom lip slipping between his teeth.

His expression suddenly changes however, and morphs into a look of pure horror. “ _Shit_ , Goten!”

“What?” He turns around to see what Trunks is looking at, panic brewing in his chest. He only catches a glimpse of the snow-white wolf before it pounces and knocks him to the ground.

“ _Fuck_!” He hears Trunks say, and out the corner of his eye he sees him running his way. Goten can’t say anything though, because there is a snout rubbing frantically against his neck, and he’s trying to squirm away from the awful feeling.

Trunks comes to a stop beside him, and gapes down at him, where he’s cackling in the snow. “Wha...”

“ _Ha-ha-ha_! Cut it out!” Goten shrieks, as he nudges the panting, smiling wolf to the side.

Trunks blinks stupidly for a moment longer before he snaps his jaw shut with a glare. “How cute.”

Goten laughs again and ruffles the wolf’s fur. “Alright, I’ll visit another time, Rikkis, but you’re really cock-blocking me right now.”

The wolf then looks up at Trunks, regarding him, before climbing off Goten. The animal nuzzles Goten one last time, then it—with its tail held high—saunters off into the trees, and disappears from view.

Trunks blinks. “That was... random.”

Goten snickers. Trunks always seemed to forget that the majority of the animals in the forest knew him and his family rather personally. “Jealous?”

“Jealous that you get to be mauled by forest creatures on the daily? Yes, I’m just drowning in envy.”

“I think you’re very brave for admitting that,” Goten says gravely. Then he holds out his hand. “Come on, sit with me.”

“But... ugh, I don’t want to,” Trunks complains. Despite this, he dutifully lowers to the snowy ground and crosses his legs.

Goten immediately scoots over so that his head can rest in Trunks’ lap. He looks up, and sees Trunks’ face scrunched in discomfort.

“What’s with the face?”

“My butt’s wet,” Trunks grumbles.

“And ready?” Goten snickers.

Trunks flicks his temple. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

Goten smiles and curls his fingers around Trunks’. “You actually think I’m hilarious, you just can’t come to terms with it.”

Trunks rolls his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Goten.”

Goten grin turns cheeky. Trunks says nothing back, but rather watches the slow descent of the snow falling while his fingers comb lazily through his dark hair. Goten, however, keeps his eyes on him.

Trunks is oblivious to the attention. From this angle, Goten can see that his bright eyes are shining with hints of white. His cheeks are slightly pink from the cold, and his lips, while a bit chapped, still seem smooth to the touch. His light lavender hair is exposed, and sprinkled with white crystals. Goten also notices that the tips of his ears are a furious red. Despite this, his hood—gods _forbid_ Trunks wear a hat and it _screw up_ his hair—remained resting unutilized against his upper back.

Then, suddenly, Trunks’ mouth is open, and his tongue is out, catching the snowflake that falls right onto it.

Alright, Goten can’t resist. He is going to pull some major Spider-man shit.

Controlling his Ki in just the right places, he floats until he is upside down and face-to-face with Trunks. The elder’s attention is on him now—not that he has anywhere else to look—as if he’s patiently waiting. Goten is pretty sure that Trunks knows what he’s doing, and Goten always appreciates the rare times when he just plays along.

Trunks leans in a bit at the same he does and their lips connect. Goten’s mitten-clad hands cradle Trunks’ cheeks as their lips move against each other. Trunks’ mouth is warm, and the tongue that presses against Goten’s upper lip is hot. Goten swipes his own tongue against Trunks’ bottom lip, in hopes that it has the same effect on him. As their lips move together, Goten slides his hands back, grips the hood, and pulls it over Trunks’ head, before placing his fingers on Trunks’ cheeks again.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t move from his position. His thumbs rub against Trunks’ cheeks as the tips of their noses touch.

“You’re beautiful,” Goten says.

Trunks blinks, before replying with the hints of a flush, “So are you.”

“No, Trunks, I’m gorgeous. Get it right,” Goten replies.

Trunks rolls his eyes, but he smiles a bit. “Alright, ‘Goten the Gorgeous’ it is then.”

‘Goten the Gorgeous’. Yup, that had quite a nice ring to it.

After another quick—well, _quick_ is a subjective term—kiss, Goten floats back down until his head is settled in Trunks’ lap again. He folds his hands against his stomach and watches the snowflakes fall over the clearing. For the rest of the day, he’s going to stop being worried and upset, and just relax with the greatest guy in the world. 


	20. Power Outages

#20- Power Outages

Word Count: 1194

* * *

Trunks had been thoroughly pissed when the lights shut off.

Goten didn’t really think much of it. His home was in the woods after all; he was used to there being electrical issues. Goten can empathize a bit though, because Trunks happened to be typing left over bits of his homework, and without the power, there was no way to keep his computer running for long.

And to top it off, Trunks’ phone remained completely dead over in the corner, where it was still plugged into the useless outlet.

Goten, however, only laughed at his frustrated boyfriend as he pulled out the spare blankets. His mother had left—she’d went to Gohan’s house, where she could properly protect granddaughter from the ‘unforgiving cold of a winter night’—and hadn’t returned in quite some time. With the house cold, dark, and empty, what was Goten’s first suggestion to past the time?

Sex, obviously.

And, amazingly enough... Trunks had conceded.

Now they laid side by side on Goten’s bed in almost total darkness. Their bare chests rose and fell quickly in their efforts to regain their breaths. Goten wipes the beads of sweat away from his forehead and stares up at his dark ceiling.

After a while, Goten hears Trunks asks, “So, when is the power going to turn back on?”

Goten turns his head to look at him, incredulous. “You just had mind-blowing sex three minutes ago, and you want to know when the _power_ is going to come back on?”

The corner of Trunks’ lips pulled into a smirk and his eyes dart over in a side-glance. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say _mind-blowing_.”

“Mhmm. You could have fooled me, with how loud you were screaming.”

Goten thinks Trunks might have flushed, but he can’t tell in the darkness. It would make sense though because, well, Trunks can’t really deny that can he?

The other boy clears his throat, and says, “Alright, I’ll give you breath-taking.”

“I’ll take it,” Goten replies with a smile.

Trunks’ arms stretched over his head as he turned over onto his side. Goten watched his back for a moment, before he spoke, “The power probably won’t come back on until tomorrow. I professionally advise that you watch ‘ _The Fault in Our Stars’_ with me when it does.”

“I guess, but I’m pretty sure we already watched that,” Trunks answered as he snuggled against the pillow.

“I know, but my mom wants to watch it, and I have to build up an immunity so that I don’t cry again. Seriously, I don’t think I ever cried so hard in my life.”

Trunks’ voice is small when he says, “I have.”

Silence follows the confession. Goten’s eyes go wide and his heart starts to pound in his chest. He had been kidding about crying during the movie (Trunks knows this, they did in fact, watch it together), but Goten is almost sure that Trunks is being serious. Trunks can’t be referring to... _that_ , can he?

But he is, Goten knows it. He knows it, because he doesn’t think _he_ ever cried so hard in his life—excluding the loss of his mother and brother so many years ago, but those don’t count, because nothing can top death—either. He feels a little twist in his heart, because he honestly can’t believe that Trunks brought _that_ up. Almost five months they’d gone with bringing it up, and now, suddenly, it was out into the open.

Goten didn’t know how he felt about that. Goten didn’t know what to say.

Abruptly, he thinks he doesn’t want to say anything. He doesn’t want to say anything about this at all, _ever_.

He has to say _something_ , though. This silence is already uneasy, and it will only grow and grow until it swallows them whole.

He rolls over, until his lips are against the back of Trunks’ neck. “Yeah?” he says against his skin, trying with all his might to keep the tightness he feels in his chest out of his voice.

“Mhm,” Trunks hums. “‘ _The Boy in the Striped Pajamas_ ’ might have been the saddest movie ever made. Nothing can top it.”

Goten is not a complete idiot; he knows that not what Trunks meant at all, and he knows a deflection when he see it. Yet just like that, Trunks has steered them back to where the weather is clear.

Goten, with the tension easing away and feeling all the more a coward for it, lets him.

Goten hums in agreement (that _was_ a sad movie, after all) and trails his lips across Trunks’ neck and shoulders. The other boy fidgets as pale fingers run over his abdomen and across his chest to tweak at his nipple, all while little kisses were being pressed against him.

Goten’s hand slides down his hip. He then grabs the underside of Trunks’ knee and lifts his leg into the air. “You want to go again?” he whispers against his ear.

Goten loved when Trunks was like this. No hesitation. No resistance. Only compliancy, only desire, all for him.

Trunks, with eyes lidded with lust and cheeks tinged pink with want, whispers back, “ _Yes_.”

And so they do go again. And then half an hour later, it’s followed by touches done only with their mouths. An hour after that is more sex, propped up on the wall Goten’s bed was pressed against.

And finally, spent and curled around each other, they sleep.

XXX

It was early morning by the time the power cut back on. Goten awoke to the brightness of his ceiling light illuminating the room and shining annoyingly in his face. With a huff, he untangles himself from Trunks and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He stretches and yawns while he trudges over towards the light switch. He stops when something on the floor catches his eye.

Still plugged into the now working outlet was Trunks’ cell phone.

He turns his head and looks over at his boyfriend. He’s lying there with his lavender hair wild around the pillow, his eyes shut, and his lips parted in his deep slumber.

 _‘Like sleeping beauty,’_ he thinks.

Goten can’t find the humor in his statement. Not with the accursed cell phone sitting right by his toes. The same cell phone that's contents had Trunks so upset and yet refusing to tell Goten the reason as to _why_.

_Don’t do it._

_Relationships are about trust._

He thinks about the way Trunks brushed him off in his kitchen, and about how Trunks acted in the mall and feels something in his chest go very sour.

His conscience has nothing to say to that, so Goten drops to the floor and picks up the device. He types in the overly-complicated password and clicks on the text message app.

It takes a bit of scrolling and reading, before anger begins to sprouts through him. He sets the phone back down before his grip can crush it completely. He is pissed _, more_ than pissed, and at the moment, he’s not quite sure with whom.

But he _definitely_ knows who’s neck he wants to break, and as soon as possible.

_End_


	21. The Solstice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t explicitly say it, but the solstice is the first day of winter, which is the same day as Marron’s birthday (at least in this fic, I don’t know if she has a canon birthday).

#21- The Solstice

Word Count: 1356

* * *

Goten smiled, but it wasn’t genuine. If Marron noticed, she didn’t let on, and only smiled back and hugged him tight. Goten felt bad that he didn’t have a gift for her, but money was, as usual, rather tight for him right now. He made a mental note to take her shopping later, when his wallet wasn’t emptier than a school building on a Sunday.

Despite the uplifting atmosphere of the party, his foul mood refused to budge. He smiled when he was spoken too and laughed at jokes he would have normally thought of as funny, but once he sat alone on the couch in the Kame House’s living room, he couldn’t keep the hardened look off his face. They only one that knew of his piss-poor mood was probably Trunks, he supposed, because he felt no desire to pretend otherwise for him.

So, he scrolled through the internet on Gohan’s cellphone he was borrowing, sipped his orange soda, and wallowed alone in his irritation.

Or at least he _was_ alone, until Trunks plopped down beside him. Goten keeps his gaze on the cellphone, though he can feel his boyfriend’s eyes on him.

“I can’t believe Marron’s fourteen. I swear we just celebrated her last birthday,” Trunks says, conversationally.

Goten hums in reply.

Trunks is quiet for a moment, before he tries again, “Krillin said they are singing ‘happy birthday’ soon.”

“Alright,” Goten says, as he scrolls his thumb against the screen.

Silence. Goten thinks he’s going to stop talking altogether, until he hears, “Are you going to come over tonight to watch movies like you said?”

“ _No_ ,” he said that a bit harsher than he intended, but he can’t find it in himself to really care. He’s angry, and he’s done pretending that he isn’t.

The silence that follows is almost unbearably uncomfortable, but Goten doesn’t care. He feels Trunks gaze piercing him, but he ignores it. He knows Trunks wants to speak, but he doesn’t have anything to say to him.

He’s so in tuned with the cellphone that he doesn’t notice tan fingers curling around his wrist. The grip yanks him to his feet and pulls him into walking. He protests as he’s dragged along, but Trunks ignores him, and continues to guide him up the stairs. When they approach the second floor, Trunks directs them into Marron’s empty bedroom. Pulling his hand free, Goten walks further into the room as Trunks closes the door.

Trunks whips around and crosses his arms. “Alright, Goten. What is it?”

Goten’s arms cross as well. His eyes are narrowed as he stares back at his boyfriend, but he can’t will the words out.

“Come on, Goten! You’ve been mad at me since we left your house this morning. What the fuck did I do?”

Goten gives an incredulous huff of laughter, his eyes trailing up to the ceiling in utter disbelief. He wonders how much longer he can contain the rage he’s feeling.

Not long at all, apparently, when Trunks says: “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Why should I?!” Goten explodes. “Why should I, when you didn’t tell _me_?”

Trunks gapes at him, and the confusion on his face is _infuriating_. “What?”

Goten restrains a growl while his hand digs into his pocket. He pulls out Gohan’s cellphone, and clicks on the tab to the latest social media app. He then shoves the phone into Trunks’ face.

On the screen is a photo. Trunks, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, stood in where Goten recognized as the rear of the high school building. The sun blurred out a bit of the image, but one could still see Trunks’ arms wrapped around a tall, blond boy’s neck, and that their lips were connected. The photo was clearly an older one—definitely not taken within the last year—but the date it was posted was recent. _Conveniently_ recent.

‘ **I See What Brief Gets Up Too After Hours. O_O** ’ read the caption underneath.

“Oh, God,” Trunks groans. His hands go to cover his face.

Goten ignores him, and swipes to the next photo. This one is Trunks sitting at a desk in one of their high school classroom. His eyes are focused forward, with his yellow pencil clenched between his teeth while he concentrates. Again, completely oblivious to the camera.

“‘ _I bet he’s a pillow-biter’_ ,” Goten reads aloud, before swiping to the next one.

In the final photo, there’s a different boy from the first one. This one has dark brunet hair, a smug smirk on his face, and his palms gripping Trunks’ backside from behind. Trunks’ mouth is open, his brows narrowed, and his cheeks are flushed from what could be assumed is surprise or embarrassment. His fingers grip the wrists behind him, presumably to push them away.

“‘ _Slut up for grabs’_ ,” Goten reads through his gritted teeth (he thinks idly that the catcall at the mall makes a hell of a lot more sense now).

Next to the captions is the username: **_AkGee310_**.

Akeno Griever.

“Goten, I get it, okay!” Trunks huffs, exasperated.

“No, it’s _not_ okay.” Goten can hear the seams rip when he roughly stuffs the phone back into his pocket. “This isn’t something to be suspicious of? This is none of my business? You think this is _nothing_?”

“I know that it’s something, alright?!”

“Don’t even look at me like that!” Goten shouts, nearly tearing out his hair when his frustrated hands run through it. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like I shouldn’t be pissed with you!”

“Well what the fuck was I supposed to do, Goten?!”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe say something along the lines of, ‘Akeno is posting creepy pictures he _shouldn’t even have_ of me online that make me look like a _slut_!’ Did you really not think this was something I needed to _know_?”

Trunks’ eyes seethed. “And what can you do, Goten, that I can’t? You didn’t know, because it’s none of your business!”

“ _None of my business?_ ” Goten expresses in disbelief. “You are my _boyfriend._ You _can’t_ be serious right now!”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Goten!” Trunks throws his arms into the air.

“It is! It absolutely is! Do you think I didn’t see all those texts from assholes asking to _fuck_ you? Or all the comments on the pictures laughing about how much of a whore you are? You don’t think there’s a problem with any of that? You think it’s okay for Akeno to start all this, and that I should just let him get away with it?”

Trunks’ jaw hardens. “You aren’t doing anything. I don’t need you to fight my battles. I’m not helpless, so stop treating me like I am.”

“You _lied_ to me,” and that’s all it really was, wasn’t it? “You told me not to worry about Akeno. You told me that everything was fine, and you _lied_.”

Goten swallows around the pain in his chest. “You promised me that if something was wrong, you would tell me. You promised _me_.”

Trunks says nothing, his hands clenching where they rest at his side. His mouth twitches, but still no words come.

Goten lets out a heavy breath. He closes his eyes, because he doesn’t know if he can fight the sting he feels growing within them. “I know I overreact, and that I can and be overbearing, and that sometimes I say things without thinking, but I would never _lie_ to you. I thought you wouldn’t either. I thought if I could trust anyone, it would be _you_.”

Goten marches towards the door. “I was wrong.”

He hears Trunks croak and, “Goten, wait!” but he doesn’t. He goes downstairs and rejoins the party. He sings Marron ‘happy birthday’ and gives her a hug and kiss. He eats her cake even though he can’t taste it and gives her the best smile he can while she opens her presents. He hopes that his bad mood did not ruin hers, but he doesn’t know if he’s succeeded.

Finally, with no word to anyone, he goes home, wondering all the while who he really is angry with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I didn’t make it clear, Trunks didn’t cheat on Goten. The photos were old.


	22. Wrapping Paper

#22- Wrapping Paper

Word Count: 2176

* * *

Goten wasn’t speaking to Trunks.

Trunks knew he deserved it. He had been sneaky. He had been overly-defensive. He had _lied_. Goten had every right to be angry with him, this Trunks could accept.

What he couldn’t accept was how Goten _wasn’t_ angry. Trunks acknowledges that it’s odd to want the other boy to be angry with him, but at least it would make _sense_. Goten should be screaming at him, or glaring, or gods even a frown would do!

There was none of that. There was just... nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was so much worse than anger. Anger, he could work with. But this? How could he fix anything when Goten wouldn’t even look at him? How could he mend the bridge between them when Goten was so utterly out of his reach?

Not too long ago, Gohan had visited Capsule Corporations upon Bulma’s request. Once his services were no longer required, Gohan—naturally—invited Trunks over to the Son household. Trunks could not think of an excuse fast enough, so as not to rouse suspicions, he reluctantly agreed, and gathered the presents he had bought that still needed wrapping. Even though he knew that Goten probably didn’t want to see him, he figured that Goten didn’t want his family in their business even more.

Or _his_ business, he supposed.

Trunks bit the corner of his lip as he pulled the red paper over his sister’s gift. He was such an idiot.

Downside to coming to the Son household: he had to sit here and be ignored by the one person he needed most.

Upside: they had nice wrapping paper.

Trunks knows that he had been too defensive that night in Marron’s bedroom. He had known before the words even left his mouth. He couldn’t help himself though! Just knowing that _Goten_ of all people saw those pictures, had read the jokes, had seen what people he normally would have considered his good acquaintances were commenting about him...

He felt a queasy feeling in his stomach. Even now, just sitting next to him and _knowing_ what he had seen made Trunks sick with embarrassment.

 _‘Stop overreacting!’_ he tries to tell himself. _‘It’s not like they were_ nude _pictures.’_

“They might as well have been,” Trunks mutters to himself. Goten’s ear twitches, but he stays silent.

Trunks wished he knew what was going through Goten’s head. He knows it’s stupid, but it’s hard not to think that maybe the real reason Goten can’t bear to look at him is because he, like everyone else, thinks that Trunks is a slu—

 _‘No.’_ Trunks snapped to himself as he tore off a piece of tape. He knew that wasn’t true. Goten was angry but he would never think that way about him, ever.

Even still, Goten deserved an explanation and an apology. But, how could he offer either of those things, when Goten wouldn’t speak to him? Trunks hadn’t actually tried, but it didn’t take a psychic to predict just how well his attempt would go. But he couldn’t wait for Goten to be ready; he had to fix this _now_.

He looked down dejectedly at his nearly wrapped gift. He had to get Goten to stop ignoring him, at least long enough to say what he needed to say. What did he have to do to get Goten’s attention?

A dull pink rises to his cheeks, because he knew _one_ surefire way to get Goten’s attention.

His cheeks darken further, because as he looks down at the gift covered in red wrapping paper with white stars and snowflakes, an idea comes to him.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he grabs the extra roll of wrapping paper and stands to his feet. He ignores Chi-Chi and Gohan’s questioning looks, and marches with purpose towards Goten’s bedroom.

When he is inside, he closes the door behind him. Looking around with uncertainty, he finally decides to set himself up in the middle of the floor. With a deep breath, he rolls out the blank side of the decorative paper and tears it when it’s long enough. He settles down on the edge of it, and is about to begin the process, when he stops himself.

Well... if he was going to do this, he might as well go all out.

With slightly red cheeks, he bunches the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows. Then, he brings his fingers up to the first button and undoes them all one-by-one until the shirt is completely open. Finally, his eyes fell to his groin.

... He may as well...

He takes a moment to psych himself up and will away the blush from his face. Then, biting his lip, he brings his fingers down and unhooks the metal button of his jeans. He then pinches the tiny clasp and pulls down the zipper, exposing his navy briefs spread over his crotch. He still feels that he needs more, but what else can finish his Christmas present cosplay?

He then remembers that presents tend to have bows or ribbon, Goten conveniently happens to have some discarded on his desk.

Stretching his body, Trunks reaches out and grabs it. He holds it close and inspects it. It’s like a combination of the two: a large red bow, with four long, red strings trailing from it, crumpled from being in Goten’s care for an unhealthy amount of time.

Trunks fights the urge to squirm. He knows _exactly_ what Goten would want him to do with this bow, and well, Trunks can’t think of a valid reason not to.

Before he can change his mind, he tangles the ribbon around both of his wrists until he can’t move them without using additional strength. Trunks regards the sight he makes, and wonders whether he looks more sexy or ridiculous.

He imagines _Goten_ like this, and... he concedes that it is a nice image indeed.

Satisfied—and _thoroughly_ embarrassed—he reclines onto his back. He then leans over to grab the edge of the paper before rolling in the opposite direction. He stops when he’s completely wrapped, and only the tips of his hair and feet are exposed. It might be his most sorry excuse wrap job ever, but he’s pretty sure Goten gets the message. He wonders how long he’ll have to wait until Goten decides to come in. He hopes it will be a while, because he’s flustered, exposed, and well, at a complete loss of what to say when Goten _does_ walk in.

He also concedes that he did not entirely think this through.

It’s too late to turn back though, because at that moment the door clicks open. The room is quiet, and Trunks can feel the eyes on him burning through the paper. He ignores the desire to fidget and prays that Goten doesn’t just turn and walk away, because Trunks doesn’t think he’ll ever live that experience down if he does.

He hears the door close. “What’s this?”

Trunks tries to will the blush away from his cheeks as his toes curl from nerves.

_Or keep blushing... You know Goten thinks it’s cute._

And of course, that thought only makes it worse.

“Early Christmas present,” he answers.

He can hear Goten’s feet padding against the carpet. “Really? I wonder what it is.”

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

And then there are fingers ripping the paper, exposing his face, and only his face. Trunks is relieved; they still needed to talk, after all, and he knows it wouldn’t be fair to manipulate Goten that way.

Afterwards, though...

“Hey, it’s just what I wanted!” Trunks blinks up at the dark eyes above him. He had accomplished in putting a smile on his face. It was a weak one, but he knew when to count his victories.

Trunks takes a deep breath. “Okay before you... open the rest of me, I want to talk to you.”

The smile is gone. “Alright.”

“Okay,” Trunks clears his throat. “I’m... sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you, and also for not telling you about... for not telling you.”

Goten regards him, and Trunks doesn’t like that blank look on his face. Goten was always easy to read, always wore his emotions on his sleeves. He knew that Goten was being guarded on purpose, and he hated it.

Finally, Goten says with brutal honesty, “You took advantage of my trust in you and broke it.”

Trunks feels a lump in his throat. “I know, and I’m so sorry.”

Goten nods. “Let’s just ignore the fact that we’ve been together for a year. You’ve been my best friend practically my entire life. Why would lie to me about this?”

“Because I knew you’d overreact!” Trunks didn’t mean to snap, and wishes that he can take it back.

Goten’s eyes narrow. “I’m pretty sure this is something I’m allowed to overreact about.”

Trunks closes his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. “I know, okay, I just... I didn’t want you to know.”

He sees the perk of curiosity in Goten’s eyes. “Why?”

Trunks focuses his gaze to the window on the other side of the room, wishing he was strong enough to look Goten in the eye. “I... for fucks sake, I’m _embarrassed_ , okay? I didn’t want to talk about—I really don’t want to be talking about it right _now_ —because I just wanted to forget about it, okay? I didn’t want to deal with it, and I really didn’t want you to... to see those pictures of me and the things people were saying and...” He huffs. “N-No one really believes anything he’s saying. They just need something to laugh at. It’s all just stupid.”

There is silence.

Eventually, he feels Goten’s knuckles bump against his shoulder. “I wish you had told me that.”

Trunks sighs. “Yeah, me too.”

“I love you, Trunks,” he says, brutally honest in the best way, “no matter what. Even if you won't let me fix all your problems you can still let me be here for you. I _want_ to be here for you when things like this happen.”

Tension Trunks didn't even know he had eases out of his body. “I'll remember that next time.” He then peers over at Goten with uncertainty in his eyes. “Do you forgive me?”

Goten hums. “Yeah, I forgive you.” Trunks is then surprised to see a faint flush painting over his pale cheeks. “I’m, uh, also sorry. For yelling at you. That was, uh, that was a real dick move. I mean, I was hurt that you didn’t tell me, but you weren’t the one I was actually angry with. I took it out on you anyway, which, again, dick move. You probably don’t need me being an asshole right now.”

Trunks shrugged. It was an awkward apology, and that made it all the more genuine.

He smiles a bit when he says, “Yeah, ‘Anti-asshole Goten’ would be kind of nice right now.”

Goten shakes his head and laughs, and Trunks is hit with the certainty that they’ll be okay.

When his laughter subsides, Goten’s fingers curl around the paper. “Come on, let’s get you out of this.”

Trunks almost protests, when he remembers that this _had_ been his plan. So, he keeps his mouth shut as Goten peels away the wrapping paper.

“ _Whoa_ ,” Goten says with wide eyes, and pink cheeks. “I feel like, objectively, I should’ve seen this coming, but I did not.”

Trunks rolls his eyes and scoffs, but his flushed face basically cancels it out. “Yeah, well that’s kind of the point of gifts. They’re surprises.”

“I think I _really_ like my gift.” Goten makes a show of licking his lips.

Trunks shifts under the attention, and doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that.

And then, Goten’s giving him a lewd smile as he fingers the bow and ribbons around Trunks’ wrist. “So, anything I want, I’m assuming?”

Trunks averts his eyes and idly wonders how one would go about building up a tolerance against blushing. Maybe he can find a YouTube tutorial or something. “Within reason.”

“Mm, Trunks, you’re _so_ playing unfair,” Goten says, before dropping his face. Trunks is so surprised by the soft lips and hot tongue suddenly on his nipple, that he can’t hold back his gasp.

“Ah. You _would_ start there,” he complains, trying to fidget away from the stimulating sensation.

Goten grins as he presses his knee between Trunks’ legs. He then grabs Trunks’ bound wrists and pulls them over his head, so they settle around his neck. “Don’t act like you don’t love it, babe.”

Trunks scowls. “ _Goten_.”

He’s ignored in favor of having kisses pressed all over his neck and face. Trunks decides to let it go, because Goten is no longer mad at him, and he figures that’s all that matters at the moment.

So, he hikes one of his legs around Goten thigh, tightens his grip around Goten’s neck, and welcomes the warm lips that are dancing all over him.


	23. Christmas Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to take a break from the conflict for the next drabble or two, and just picked two of my favorite Christmas songs that my family and I listen too. Enjoy this song-fic lol.

#23- Christmas Songs

Word Count: 929

* * *

**_Hang all the mistletoe,_ **

**_I’m gonna get to know you better._ **

**_This Christmas._ **

**_And as we trim the tree,_ **

**_How much fun it’s gonna be together._ **

**_This Christmas._ **

**_Fireside is blazing bright,_ **

**_We’re caroling through the night!_ **

“ _And this Christmas, will be, a very special Christmas, for meeee, yeah!_ ” The two youngest Sons sang in unison.

“ _Dun na, na, nana na, na, na, nana na_!” Goten verbalizes the rhythm of the song loudly, causing the girl sitting atop his shoulders to giggle.

“ _Presents and cards are here; my world is filled with cheer and you,_ ” Goten sang as he stood on his tiptoes, allowing Pan to place an ornament high on the tree. They were decorating the tree a bit late this year. Chi-Chi refused to allow any decorating until everyone in the family was together, and so the moment she had free time, she had flown right down to Uub’s village and quite literally dragged Goku back by his ear. The moment his father was home, his mother turned on her favorite Christmas CD, and the decorating tradition had promptly begun.

**_And as I look around, your eyes outshine the town, they do._ **

**_This Christmas._ **

“These romantic-y lyrics got me thinking,” Videl said while adjusting a row of lights spread over the branches. “Where’s your boyfriend, Goten?”

Goten looked around, but there was not a single hint of lavender in sight. “I’m not sure.”

“Go get him. I’m sure he wants to decorate too!” Goku chimes in as Pan floats over to sit on his shoulders.

“You bring that boy down here,” Chi-Chi finishes, her hand going wistfully to her cheek. “Poor thing, works so hard. He deserves a break.” Then a determined look comes over her face. “But that does not exempt him from tradition!”

Both brothers give their mother a disbelieving look, before Goten promptly he exits the living-room. When he checks his bedroom, he’s surprised to see that Trunks isn’t there and moves on. There are only so many other places Trunks can hide.

Goten eventually finds him out on the balcony. Goten could hardly see him against the dark of the night, standing in only a hoodie despite the chill. The hood is down as well, and his hair is already a shade darker from the steadily falling snow settling and melting in it. Goten also notices two white wires treading from what he guesses is his front pocket up to his ears. He’s listening to music.

Goten steps into the closest pair of shoes he finds and opens the glass door. Trunks seems not to have noticed, because he is still singing softly, “ _Oh, even the man who has everything, would be so happy if you would bring him love, on Christmas day_.”

Goten walks out the doorway with a grin on his face. The cold air chills his arms through his long-sleeved shirt, but he ignores it. The snow crunches quietly beneath his shoes as he walks over and wraps his arms tight around the older boy.

Trunks jumped, one of the buds slipping out of his ear. “ _Fuck,_ Goten! Why are you like this?”

“What are you listening too?” Goten asks as he takes the fallen bud and puts it in his ear.

**_People you don’t know,_ **

**_Smiling out hello._ **

**_Everywhere, there’s an air_ **

**_Of Christmas joy._ **

“Were you listening to this on repeat? I bet you were.” This had always been Trunks’ favorite Christmas song, ever since they were kids. Goten’s favorite Christmas song—currently—was _‘8 days of Christmas’_ by Destiny’s Child. What could he say? The song was hot, and the music video was bangin’.

Yes, Goten knows ‘cool kid’ lingo.

Trunks scoffs. “Shut up. I didn’t come out here to be judged by my great taste in music.”

Goten grins and buries his face in the heat of Trunks’ neck. “ _Why don’t you give love on Christmas day_?”

“ _The man on the street and the couple upstairs, want you to know there’s someone who cares_ ,” Trunks sings along, dropping his head back against Goten’s shoulder.

“ _Give love, on Chriiiiiistmas daayayay_!” they sing highly together in their best efforts to match the pitch.

“ _Why don’t you give loooove? There’s someone who needs it right now._ _Radadadada_!”

Trunks bursts out laughing, and Goten follows him.

After a moment, when they can speak without giggles, Goten tugs at him. “Come on, let’s go back inside before my fingernails freeze off.”

Trunks’ body doesn’t budge. “Go ahead, I’m fine out here.”

Goten arches his brow. In their ears, the song—which was indeed on repeat—starts to play again. “Yeah, but you can’t help decorate from out here.”

Now Trunks is giving him a confused look. “But your mother said it was a family tradition?”

Goten blinks at him, the two brain cells he has at his disposal trying their hardest to make sense of what he’s being told.

Then it clicks, and a warm feeling blooms in his chest and spreads all over his body. He squeezes Trunks tightly and kisses him deeply. Trunks squeaks underneath his lips.

When he finally pulls away, he says, “Trunks, you beautiful idiot, you _are_ family.”

Trunks has the audacity to look speechless at his declaration. He finally settles with, “Oh.”

Goten sighs and pulls him towards the door. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Come on, then, _give us some love_ , Trunks.”

“It’s not actually Christmas day, yet,” he says, but follows him anyway. He’s humming the tune of the song again and doesn’t bother to hide his own joy shining brightly in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “This Christmas” ~Donny Hathaway.
> 
> “Give Love on Christmas Day” ~Johnny Gill.


	24. Mistletoe

#24- Mistletoe

Word Count: 1164

* * *

“So, what did you get?” Goten asked as he lifted his legs onto Trunks’ lap.

Trunks pushed the legs back down. “Some clothes, a new car, shoes, stuff to put in my dorm. I wish you had seen it: Bra literally jumped and screamed for like five minutes straight over that Barbie doll with the topaz-studded dress I bought her.”

Goten chuckled and lifted his legs onto Trunks’ lap again. “You spoil her.”

Trunks sighs and leaves the invading legs where they are. “I can’t help it. I don’t know why; the brat doesn’t even deserve it.”

Goten hums and nods, even though he knows that Trunks is lying through his teeth.

The Briefs had done their gift-opening earlier today, even though it was Christmas Eve, not actually Christmas day. Apparently Bulma had to leave for an important business trip in Brazil tonight, and thus wouldn’t be available tomorrow. Goten thinks he would be utterly distraught if he couldn’t see him mother on Christmas of all days. Neither Trunks nor his sister seemed to mind however, claiming they were used to it.

Goten keeps the thought to himself, but he thinks it’s a sad thing to be “used to”.

Goten leans back against the couch and regards the party Bulma threw despite the busy night ahead of her. There were people here that he didn’t know—Bulma’s non-z-fighter friends—but most of them he did. His family was scattered all over: his brother chatting in a corner with Piccolo, Videl and Pan playing a card game with Bra, his mother stuck in a rather one-sided conversation with Master Roshi, his father eyeing the tray of gingerbread cookies next to him.

It was an overall good night, but Goten figured that it would be better with more activity.

“Hey, dance with me,” Goten says.

Trunks gives him a side look. “No.”

Goten jostles his shoulder, and pouts. “Why? Because we’re around friends and family?”

“Yes, that’s exactly why.”

Goten rolls his eyes, but smiles. “You need to loosen up.” He stretches back to grab the last glass of what he assumes is champagne off of an end table. He holds it out to Trunks.

Trunks takes it with an arched brow. Goten nods, and braces his hands behind his head.

Trunks gives him another look, before he brings the glass to his lips. He almost has the contents tipped into his mouth when the glass is delicately plucked from his fingers.

“Hey-! Mom! I’m _legal_!” Trunks protests.

Bulma glances at him over her shoulder. “Trunks, as far as I am concerned, you are still my six-year old little boy who wears _Iron Man_ pajamas to bed every night. Six-year olds don’t drink alcohol, sweetie.” She smiles, puckers her lips in an air-kiss, and walks off.

“Six-year olds also don’t drive cars, go to college on the other side of the world, engage in gay sex, or buy topaz-studded Barbie dolls for their bratty little sisters,” Trunks mutters. Goten bites back his smile but his shoulders still shake with involuntary giggles.

Trunks throws Goten’s legs off his lap and turns to him with a look of utter determination on his face. “Get me another one.”

Goten looks back at the end table. “There aren’t any more.”

“Go find me one! I can’t try and sneak a drink at my own house party. That’s so lame.”

“Yes, of course, a classy bitch like you could never.” Goten snickers at Trunks’ glare. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

Hopping from the seat, he darts his eyes back in forth in search of glasses filled with golden or amber liquid. It doesn’t take him long to find a table a few paces over with a row of glasses covering the entirety of it. He also notices that right next to the table is Vegeta, standing alone with his arms crossed over his chest in their usual irritated fashion.

Confidently, Goten walks over. His movement captures Vegeta’s attention, but the Son remains undeterred. It only takes him a few steps to get there, and once he does, he leans back against the wall the same way the older man does.

“This is a nice party, huh?” Goten speaks conversationally.

Vegeta does some kind of half-grunt in reply.

Goten drums his fingers against his thigh. “I heard you helped decorate the house for the party.”

Vegeta grunts, but it comes out sounding like, " _Bah_."

Naturally, Goten can’t help but say, " _Humbag_ ," and snicker.

Vegeta shoots him a side glare, obviously not familiar with the reference, but still understanding that he had been made fun of.

Goten turns to face the prince. He leans his shoulder against the wall, and smiles. He’s not normally so bold with Vegeta, but he knows he wouldn’t actually try to kill him with so many witnesses around. Probably. “You know, every time I’m around you, I always get this bad vibe—like you want to punch me or something.”

He thinks he sees a hint of a smirk. “How observant.”

Goten is going to reply, when he hears a long, dragged out, ‘ _oooh_.’

He looks over, and sees the other z-fighters watching him with wide-eyes. Goten isn’t a complete idiot, and even without looking up, can he tell he’s standing under mistletoe.

Maybe it’s the festivities, maybe it’s because he made out with Trunks two hours prior, maybe it’s because Goten lost the only two brain cells he had left on the way over here, but whatever it was must have given him the strength to do what he does next.

He bends at the waist and connects his lips to Vegeta’s cheek in a quick, loud peck.

The man whips around, and if it was any other situation Goten would have laughed at the utterly flabbergasted look on his face. The look only stays for a second, however, and now Goten thinks he just _might_ be seeing his imminent death playing out through Vegeta’s eyes.

“ _Frick_ ,” Goten says as he stumbles back. He kind of wants to giggle nervously, like any person would do in an awkward situation. Mostly he wants to cry.

When he steps back again he bumps into Trunks, and immediately scurries behind him.

Goten ignores the laughter he hears around him as he tightens his desperate hold on the back of the other boy’s shirt. “Trunks, please, you have to help me.”

Trunks only sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “And yet you wonder why my father doesn’t like you.”

Goten used Trunks as his human shield for only a few more seconds, when he decided that the best course of action would be to remove himself from the surrounding area entirely. The rest of his night was spent this way: hiding in places he hasn’t been able to fit in since his childhood, and looking out for murderous dark eyes that may or may not be lurking around the corner.

On the bright side: Trunks eventually did get his champagne.


	25. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far my most changed drabble and I honestly can’t say if it’s for the better or worse lol. So yeah this drabble includes spanking, role-play, dom/sub dynamics, and a humiliation kink. If any of those things are not your cup of tea, only the last few paragraphs are relevant plot-wise.
> 
> ADDITIONAL WARNING! Since this is their first ever experience with anything that isn’t vanilla, I didn’t give them a safe word, but it can be assumed that if either of them says ‘stop’ then they will stop.

#25- Christmas Day

Word Count: 2898

* * *

“Good morning, baby! Happy Christmas!” Goten exclaims as he threw his arms around Trunks’ neck, holding him in place while he pressed a hard kiss against his lips.

“Happy Christmas, Goten,” Trunks manages to say back, bracing his hands against his sides to keep the enthusiastic demi-saiyan at bay. “What did you get?”

“I don’t know yet. We were waiting for you!” Goten’s arm stays wrapped around Trunks shoulders as he guides them towards his house, Bra bouncing impatiently next to them.

“You waited? Why?”

Goten arched a brow. “I feel like we’ve gone through this already.”

“Well, yeah,” Trunks replies as his arm goes around Goten's waist. “But decorating is a bit different than opening gifts with your family.”

Goten’s eyes roll. “You’ve been a part of my family since we were babies, Trunks.”

“Yeah as the ‘ _best friend’,_ not the ‘son-in-law’. And I’ve never spent a Christmas _morning_ here.”

Goten turns his head to look at Trunks with his brows raised in surprise. “Son-in-law?”

A faint blush spreads across his cheeks as he corrects himself, “Boyfriend. Whatever, it’s the same thing, stop being difficult.”

Goten shakes his head in amused exasperation. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Besides”—he leans in close to Trunks’ ear—“once we get through this, we’ll get to see just what Santa Claus got _you_ for Christmas.”

Trunks normally would hiss something back to display his annoyance, but this time he only just barely keeps from choking. The nerves that he was barely holding back are now taking over every muscle in his body until all he can do is gape stupidly in reply.

Goten gives him a downright sinful grin, before throwing the front door wide open. Trunks follows after him, feeling just a bit as if he were walking himself straight to the gallows.

XXX

It had all started a few weeks ago by an honest mistake, one of which Trunks will _never_ commit again.

Gift-giving had always been a bit of a difficult task for the two of them. Regarding Goten, he was actually an incredibly easy person to shop for, and there was no potential gift that was out of Trunks’ price range. Such was so that this year, Goten was completely satisfied by his brand new game system, cookbook (of all things), and life-size replica of his favorite _Avenger_.

However, the exact opposite was true in the case of Trunks. Not only did he already have everything he could possibly want, but Goten also could not be as frivolous with money. Even still, Goten refused to forego giving a gift. For months Goten had been bugging him for a gift suggestion, but Trunks honestly did not know what to ask for that wouldn’t put Goten in debt until literally next Christmas.

Once the pestering had nearly driven him insane, he gave in and complained through texting to Cayon, the only person he didn’t feel guilty whining too on a regular basis.

**He keeps asking what I want for Christmas, and said he refuses to buy me something as impersonal as a sweater**

**Well, you can never go wrong in asking for something kinky ;)**

Trunks couldn’t help but laugh at Cayon’s response, and did not hesitate to text back:

**Sure, I’ll just be like “hey, Goten, instead of wasting all your money on a stupid gift, why don’t you just spank me in a Santa suit and we’ll call it even?”**

The problem arose at the exact moment he sent the message. At the time, he had been simultaneously texting Goten, who had been bothering him about some movie he wanted them to go see in theatres. Normally, Trunks was perfectly capable of handling two conversations at once, but it seemed that now, of all times, he would fuck up, and accidently send that final message to the _last_ person who needed to see it.

Once Trunks had realized what he had done, he had screamed and thrown his phone as far away from him as he could.

Immediately he had dived after it, desperately typing in his passcode while he tried to think of someway, _anyway_ , to fix the horrible, horrible, _horrible_ situation he was experiencing.

By the time the screen finally opened, it was too late. Goten had already responded back:

**Alright**

Trunks had been too busy screaming and banging his face into a pillow to reply anything back.

Aside from that terrible mishap, they had not talked about it at all. Granted, Trunks was busy with school and then they were having ‘issues TM’, but still, the fact that Goten hadn’t at least _teased_ him about it was incredibly odd. In fact, he had almost thought he was in the clear until late after the Christmas Eve party when Goten gave him a single present, stating cryptically that it was a gift Trunks should open by himself.

He was quite thankful for Goten’s advice, because later when he had opened it in the solitude of his bedroom, he had blushed so hard he was honestly surprised he hadn’t fallen into a coma.

Now, hours after the Son’s gift-opening, he thinks he’s in danger of doing just that once again. The morning itself had been quite festive: Pan running around with her new toys and bandana while Bra chased after her, Goku immediately napping afterward on the couch, Chi-Chi frantically cleaning up wrapping paper whilst complaining about the usual lack of help, and Videl and Gohan starting on breakfast. Conversation had been light and easy through breakfast all the way until lunch, so much so that Trunks actually felt somewhat at ease.

Or at least he had until the entire Son family and his sister abruptly left for Gohan’s house to start on Christmas dinner, leaving him and Goten alone in the house.

If Goten’s plans weren’t so _perverted_ Trunks would have thought that they were all in on it. As it were, Trunks just happened to have the worst luck in the universe, and could blame no one but himself as he, upon Goten’s summoning text, reluctantly opened the door to his bedroom.

Goten sits completely at ease on the edge of his bed despite his appearance. He’s wearing a Santa jacket over a black tank, a Santa hat crooked on his dark hair, and red jeans as his bottoms. The look is brought together by the ridiculous Santa beard strapped to his face, and any other time Trunks would have been choking with laughter, but it is hard to be amused when his heart is doing its damnedest to beat straight out his chest.

“Well, well, well, looks like I missed someone when I was delivering presents last night.” Goten quirks his brow and tilts his head as if confused, but that same horrible grin from earlier is back. “But does he deserve one?”

“I... I do,” Trunks replies. Good gods, is he _playing_ _along_ with this?

“Really? You know I check that list twice and I’m almost positive you weren’t on the ‘nice’ side. Perhaps we should check one more time, hmm?”

Trunks swallows hard. With a deep breath, he pulls off his navy nightshirt. Then, before his resolve fades, pushes his Christmas-themed pajamas bottoms down his thighs and legs until he can step out of them completely. He might as well be completely naked by how exposed he feels in the panties Goten gifted him. They are tight around his cock and cheeks, and black with cute little frills around the edges, and he really does not want to think about what is printed on the back.

Goten sucked his teeth in disapproval, but Trunks didn’t miss the hungry look in his eyes. “Come now, if it says what I suspect it says you have no business being this shy.”

 _‘You already_ do _know what it says, you dick,’_ Trunks thinks, but dutifully turns around.

Printed across his ass in bright red letters is a single word: _NAUGHTY_.

Goten shakes his head, disappointed. “What a shame. Unfortunately, I’ve run all out of coal this year. Then again, I think a _different_ kind of punishment would suit you better.”

Trunks says nothing, trying his hardest not to fidget on the spot. Embarrassment curls hotly in his stomach, and yet...

“Well, come on then, I haven’t got all night. I’ve been out late enough as is, and Mrs. Claus will think I’m up to something _unbecoming_ if I don’t hurry back.”

Trunks breaks through his embarrassment to roll his eyes as he spins on his heel. He steps forward with his head as high as he can manage, but he falters once he reaches Goten, his lap looming almost threateningly before him.

Goten doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Now, now, don’t be like that. You don’t want to be on the naughty list again next year, do you?”

Trunks averts his eyes. “No...”

“Well,” Goten spreads his legs, and pats his lap invitingly. “Why don’t you prove to me that even naughty boys can be nice to get what they want?”

Gods, why does Goten have to be such a pervert? His words send heat prickling over his body, and oh fuck, Trunks can’t believe he’s really about to do this...

He takes a deep breath to steel himself, and before he can stop himself, bends forward until he’s spread completely over Goten’s lap.

Trunks immediately drops his face, as if that will hide him from the utterly humiliating position he’s in. He has no idea how he could possibly live the rest of his life with this moment in his memories. Why would he ever suggest this? He’s never been spanked before. Never, ever, _ever_ , and the fact that deep down he had actually been _curious_ about this, had had such filthy thoughts cross his mind every single time Goten had playfully slapped his backside...

Suddenly, all of the heat around his body congregates to his groin and his blush only gets worse because somehow, someway, he’s actually _turned on_ right now—

Even more sudden is the hand smacking his ass.

“ _Ah_!” he shouts, more surprised than anything else.

“Now, that I’ve got your attention, we can discuss your punishment,” Goten says, rubbing a soothing hand over the struck spot. “Since there have been twenty-five days this month that you could have cleaned up your act, I think that that many spanks would be fitting. You will have to count them for me, or else I might lose track and need to start over. Am I understood?”

Trunks hesitates. He knows better than to call him ‘Goten’ but he’ll sooner eat his own ass before he calls him ‘Santa’.

Finally, with his voice as loud as he can manage, he says, “Yes, sir.”

The silence that follows says a lot of things and Trunks doesn’t understand any of it. Goten’s speechlessness is a million times worse given that Trunks can’t see his face, but would knowing his expression make the situation any more bearable? Trunks is horribly unsure.

He’s just about to call this whole thing off and find somewhere to hide for the rest of his natural life, when a hand smacks him again and it _hurts_.

“ _Ah_!” he shouts, then remembers, “One.”

Another. “Two.”

Another. “Three.”

Another. He grits his teeth. “Four.”

Another. “ _Five_.”

Goten stops and Trunks is surprised that he’s slightly out of breath. He focuses on evening his breath while Goten rubs a palm over his hot skin.

“You’re being so good for me. I see many toy trains and jump ropes in your future.”

Trunks couldn’t help himself. “Oh, shut up, Goten.”

He wishes he had, however, when Goten spanks him so hard and fast he couldn’t even try to count, only managing a string of ‘ _ow, ow, ow!_ ’ before he finally throws a hand back and the barrage ceases.

“That wasn’t very nice, Trunks.”

Trunks actually cringes at the disappointment in his tone. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Goten hums in approval and tosses Trunks arm back towards the floor. “Good. Now, I think we should start again, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” and they do. “One. Two. Three, _ah_. Four.”

When they reach five again, Goten pulls the panties forward until there is nothing covering his cheeks, and the drag of the fabric against his completely hard cock and his perineum has him whimpering shamefully.

Smack. “Six.”

Smack. “Seven.”

Smack. “ _Eight_.”

Every blow is harsher than the last. His toes curl helplessly against the carpet, and his fingers are nearly tearing holes where they are clutching at Goten’s jeans.

Smack. “Ten.”

Smack. “ _Ah_! Eleven!”

With each hit he rocks forward, grinding as much as he can get away with against Goten’s thigh. He’s making an absolute mess of the panties, but from the hardness he feels underneath his hip, he can guess that Goten isn’t much better off.

A hard smack nearly knocks the breath out of him. Every spot that felt the wrath of Goten’s hand stings so badly, and yet Trunks has never been so hard in his whole _life_.

“What’s that? Did you lose track?”

“ _Fifteen_!” Trunks shouts desperately, tears beading in the corners of his eyes.

“Good, good,” Goten says. Another smack. Another number. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes! I’m sorry!”

“You’ll be a good boy from now on?” Smack.

“ _Seventeen_! Yes, I promise, sir!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Smack. Eighteen. Smack. Nineteen. Smack.

“Ow, ow! _Twenty_!” Trunks screams, and he’s this close to coming as quickly as he ever had since puberty first wrecked his life.

“Don’t you dare!” Goten says before he can. “You’re not finished yet!”

Goten keeps him in place with an arm around his waist and holds nothing back. Trunks fights for as long as he can. Finally, as he screams, “ _Twenty-five_!” he lets go, moaning and whining as he ruins the panties pulled so tightly against his skin. Underneath him, he feels Goten shuddering and his knees jerking before he too collapses in exhaustion.

It is only a moment later, however, when Goten is gathering him up. Trunks is limp in his arms as Goten pulls them back onto his bed, before settling him against his chest. Trunks is shuddering against him and tiny tears smear from his eyes. Goten only holds him, rubbing his back gently until he’s finally still. They lay there for several minutes, catching their breath and processing every detail of what just occurred.

Finally, Goten breaks the silence, “That was so fucking hot.”

“Oh, shut up,” Trunks groans, rolling away.

“No, really, I mean I was kinda expecting you to laugh at my awesome beard and call the whole thing off. I’m _so_ glad you didn’t. Why have we never done that before? Why are we so basic? I thought I was above vanilla sex but apparently not. This might honestly be my new favorite memory. This is _definitely_ by far my most favorite orgasm. I—”

“Gods above why don’t you have an off switch?” Trunks asks honestly while reaching over to tear the hideous beard off.

“Hey! I spent two whole dollars on that!”

“I’m going to burn it,” Trunks tells him with even more honesty, before he tosses it far away.

“Santa Son deserves more respect than this,” and before Trunks can reply to that ridiculous statement, Goten is dropping a hand to his backside to readjust the panties. He then squeezes his skin and Trunks bites his lip at the lingering sting.

“Was it good?” he asks.

That choked feeling from before is back. Trunks manages a nod.

“Good,” he says. In the next moment, he’s shoving a tiny present under Trunks’ nose.

Trunks blinks at it.

“Come on, you didn’t really think I got you _nothing_ , did you?”

Trunks, genuinely stunned, takes it from him. “You really didn’t have too.”

“And yet, somehow, I wanted too. Now open it.”

Trunks does. Inside the little box is a bracelet. It is very simple in design, a plain, dark strap with two rows of string on each side of the clasp. However, the inside of the strap is light brown, and displays very small black words written all around it in cursive design:

_I love you with all the love there is, all the love that ever has been, and all the love that ever will be. You are the most beautiful thing I keep inside my heart. If ever you forget, look here and remember that the only word to describe you is ‘mine’, and the only word to describe me is ‘yours’, and the only word to describe us is ‘forever’._

“ _Oh_ ,” Trunks says clamping a hand over his mouth while tears prick his eyes once more and he knows he must look like an actress from a 40’s movie or something but he just can’t help it. It’s been a really long day, no week, no _month_ , in fact, and his ass stings and he’s still keyed up from earlier and to have such a nice reminder that the love of his life loves him just as much is a lot to handle, _okay_?

Goten hugs him close. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I... yeah,” is all Trunks can get out but Goten doesn’t seem to mind. He just hugs him tighter and Trunks knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s never loved Goten more than he did right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say in response to this drabble is... my bad. Stay tuned for less filth and more angst.


	26. Fireplaces

#26- Fireplaces

Word Count: 1576

* * *

Goten’s dark eyes flickered with the yellow and orange of the fire. There was no other light on in his living-room, and there was no other sound aside from Trunks’ rough breathing (one could almost call it _snoring_ , but Goten didn’t quite have the balls for that). It was times like this—when Goten was alone with nothing to occupy his thoughts—when he couldn’t help but think about things he didn’t want to think about. Things he didn’t want to think about included: his grades, the dark parts of their relationship, assholes that are screwing around with his boyfriend, etc.

Currently, it’s assholes that are screwing around with his boyfriend.

Goten doesn’t know what he should do about Akeno. They had avoided worrying over it the past couple of days. They both hid under the cheerful disguise the holidays brought, but that didn’t make the problem disappear. Trunks had made it clear that he didn’t want to deal with it, didn’t so much as want to _talk_ about it.

Trunks wanted him to let it go, but Goten didn’t think—no, he _knew_ he couldn’t do that.

 _“He’s just a weird asshole who got off on stalking me with his camera. Everyone knows that,”_ Trunks had told him, during one of the only times he was actually willing to discuss it.

_“Yeah, well its common knowledge that he’s a weird asshole, but that doesn’t excuse what he’s doing! It also doesn’t change the fact that he’s probably not going to stop until someone’s foot is lodged up his ass!” Goten protested._

_Trunks rolled his eyes. “Well I’d be happy if that foot wasn’t yours. I don’t need you to fight my battles, remember? Especially when I don’t think this ‘battle’ warrants any fighting.”_

_“So you want to run from this? Trunks, you can’t keep running from your problems!”_

_“I don’t run from my problems!”_

_Goten gave him a look._

_Trunks sighed. “Alright, but I’m not running from_ this _one. I’m getting over it, because I’ve got way more important things to worry about in my life. Now can we stop talking about this?”_

Goten dropped the conversation, because neither of them were going to concede any time soon. Goten knew his mind would not change, but he hoped that Trunks could be... _persuaded_. So far, that didn’t seem like it was happening.

He stops thinking about it because his mother is walking around the couch, catching his attention.

“Hey, Mom, I thought you were in bed.”

“I’m on my way, just wanted to finish up with the last of the dishes.”

“Aw mom, you should’ve told me. Is there anything else you need done?” Goten didn’t like chores, but he was willing to do them for his mother. He could cook, wash dishes without breaking them, and even—shudder— _tidy up_ if he put his mind to it.

... He was definitely the most domesticated of the Son boys and he refused to be ashamed of it.

She waves him off. “I’ve got it all covered, but if you want to help, you can wash the dishes after breakfast tomorrow.” She wipes her hands down her dress, and gestures with her head to the unconscious boy. “He’s wiped out.”

Goten trails his eyes over. Trunks’ legs are crossed on the couch as his head leans heavily against Goten’s shoulder. His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths, and his mouth is open from his... rough breathing...

Not snoring... _definitely_ not snoring...

Goten feels a faint blush rise to his cheeks as he replies, “Yeah, I kind of, uh, kept him up late last night.” Goten prays that his mother doesn’t take that in the way it was implied.

She gives him a suspicious look. “ _Right_. Well, I’m off to demand that your father stay until the New Year. Goodnight, baby.”

"Goodnight, I love you," Goten says back.

"I love you too, sweetie," She answers, bending down to kiss his forehead. She then pauses, before turning and kissing Trunks' forehead. "And this one too... even if he did break my vase."

Goten quirks his brow in amusement. "Six years ago?"

Chi-Chi grumbles. "It doesn't matter how long ago it was. It doesn't make the vase any less broken."

Goten laughs as his mother exits the room. When she’s gone, he turns his attention back to the fireplace. The fire crackles against the wood inside, filling the room with dark shadows and warmth. He wants to focus on the fire and stop worrying over things that are out of his control, just for a moment.

A new distraction comes in the form of his new cellphone—a Christmas present from Gohan—buzzing in his pants pocket.

He reaches in and pulls out the device. He groans when he sees the caller ID.

Cayon.

Goten clicks the answer button, and brings the phone to his ear. “What do you want?” He doesn’t bother whispering; Trunks was a deep enough sleeper.

“You know, when someone calls, it’s customary to say ‘hello’. Still don’t have any manners?”

“Look, as much as I would love to sit here and listen to you insult me, I’ve got better things to do, so goodby—”

“Okay, okay, shit. I’m sorry, alright?”

Goten is stunned almost speechless. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what you’re going to do about the whole Trunks situation.”

“What Trunks si—?”

“ _Akeno_ , Son. Gods, you’re dumb.”

Goten doesn’t even notice the insult. “What the hell do you care?”

“By your response, I’m going to assume you’re doing nothing.”

Goten’s brow twitches as he flushes. “Okay, you are probably the _last_ person I should be having this conversation with.”

“Listen, Son. I really don’t like you, and you really don’t like me, we’ve made that pretty clear. That does not change the fact that Trunks is still my friend. Despite whatever you think my motives are, I care about him, and I don’t want him getting hurt because you’re too much of a coward to do something.”

Goten exhales roughly, and closes his eyes. “He doesn’t _want_ me to do anything.”

“Of course he doesn’t, you of all people should know how Trunks gets when he’s got a problem! You can’t let Akeno use that as an excuse to fuck around with him!”

“Do you have any idea how pissed he’ll be with me?”

“Does it matter? What’s more important: you’re perfect, happy relationship where you guys are always smiling and frolicking in the sunset and pretending that everything is happy in the world, or taking care of a serious problem that is already fucking with his daily life, mental state, and most likely his future if left to do so?”

Goten bites his lip and looks down at the sleeping boy next to him. What _was_ more important? He knew that he shouldn’t be asking this, that he should already know the answer, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Goten thinks the _right_ thing to do would be to take care of Akeno, despite Trunks’ wishes. But... what could that mean for them afterwards? With how fragile their relationship has been lately, he could risk them possibly breaking...

He didn’t want to do that; he wasn’t strong enough to go through that a second time. Those few days, despite how much Goten wished they didn’t exist, still lingered like a fog in the back of his mind, getting closer and closer with each little fight, and every single problem. It would only be a matter of time before they were here, and it might not be as easy to escape them a second time...

“When people ask non-rhetorical questions, it is also customary to answer.”

“Okay, okay. Fuck, I’ll think of something.”

“You better. Now that that’s out of the way, have a pleasant evening, Go-Go,” Cayon says pleasantly.

“Fuck you, and don’t call me again,” Goten replies and disconnects the call. He knew he probably shouldn’t take advice from Cayon, but he couldn’t help but to admit that the asshole was right. He had to do _something_.

Goten closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t want to worry about this; he didn’t want to worry about anything. He just wanted to lay here, with the fireplace flickering behind his eyelids, and forget that this problem even existed.

Sleep, that’s what he’s going to do. That’s all he can do right now.

He nudges Trunks’ head off of him so he can stand to his feet. He goes to put out the fire. Once the flames are gone, he turns around in the nearly-pitch black room. He returns to the couch, and kneels down.

He jostles Trunks’ shoulder and speaks softly, “Hey, Trunks.”

It’s a long moment later when the older boy groans.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Trunks mumbles, and throws his hands out, hitting Goten in the cheek. He blinks, dazed, as the arms fall to rest on his shoulders. Goten understands now and rolls his eyes in amusement.

Bracing his hand on the underside of Trunks’ knees and his back, he stood, pulling Trunks up with him. Trunks’ body was as big as his, but nowhere near heavy, so Goten didn’t have any trouble carrying him along.

... Aside from stubbing his toe on the end table, but he didn’t complain, because he figured that that of all the problems he had right now, this was one he didn’t mind at all.


	27. Winter Constellations

_Disclaimer:_ I am far too lazy to come up with quite a complex series such as Dragon ball Z. I don't own it, nor do I wish I owned it, because that sounds like a lot of work...

#27- Winter Constellations

Word Count: 983

* * *

Goten’s breath was cold and visible against his lips with every exhale. The snow his body laid over top of was firm yet soft and was sure to start seeping through his coat soon. He didn’t let it bother him though, and only stared up ahead of him.

The sky was somehow dark and bright at the same time. An infinite number of stars lit up the black canvas, untainted by light pollution. It had actually been a while since Goten had last watched the stars. He found the winter sky to be more beautiful than the summer one—he was also more familiar with the star patterns—but he often couldn’t find a valid reason to force himself out into the cold. His reason for _this_ star-gazing was that he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he and Trunks had done it together. The only people that he remembers star-gazing with when he was younger was his family; to watch the night-sky with anyone else seemed almost romantic or intimate or, at the very least, too boring for him to do with his best friend. Trunks wasn’t _just_ his best friend anymore, and they weren’t little boys anymore either, so there was nothing stopping Goten from bringing him here.

Tonight, was a good night: the sky was clear, the air wasn’t _that_ cold, and the snow that fell was steady and slow. A natural scene that cities or money couldn’t offer; only nature could. Goten knew nature and Trunks knew city life, which meant they had a healthy balance of new things to show each other (like a of couple years ago when Trunks first showed him the realities of public transportation; rather exciting, to say the least) and fun things to do (like now, when Goten could show Trunks the night-sky without the disturbance of bright city lights). Goten needed this time with just Trunks; to have him all to himself, especially in light of... everything else that was going on.

“I can’t find them, Goten.”

He chuckles and glances at Trunks out the corner of his eye. “You didn’t even look.”

“I did!” he protests. “They are just a cluster of stars to me.”

Goten rolls over to face Trunks. He then leans his lips near his ear, and says softly, “That’s because you don’t know where to look.” With blue eyes focused on him, Goten takes Trunks’ wrist and points it towards the sky. He then maneuvers Trunks’ wrist in a squiggly motion.

“Draco.”

Blue eyes blink. “What—?”

“Draco,” Goten repeats. When Trunks looks up at the sky, Goten does the motion again. “That’s where it’s at.”

Trunks’ index finger forms into a pointer. “Oh.”

Goten shifts Trunks’ wrist over, and then moves it in the shape of a kite. “Cassiopeia.”

“That doesn’t look much like a ‘Cassiopeia’.”

Goten smiles, and moves Trunks’ wrist again. “Really? How about Perseus, carrying the head of the cursed Medusa along with him? Right next to the beautiful Andromeda,” He moves the wrist again. “Who’s life he saved. Can you see it now?”

“I... guess so,” Trunks replies, with a contemplative look. He then glances over at Goten. “How can you find them?”

Goten shrugs. “When my family would come out here, they would always point them out to me. Once I got used to the sky, it wasn’t too hard to find them on my own.”

Trunks processes the information, before his eyes trail back up to the sky. “Show me another.”

And then Goten has Trunks’ wrist swimming along the sky. “Cepheus... Pegasus... Pisces... Auriga—no, no, this one’s Aries. _This_ one is Auriga... Taurus—see the horns? —Cancer... Um, that’s Hydra, I think... Gemini... Orion.” And then he drags Trunks wrist in a long line across the sprinkle of dust. “Milky Way.”

Trunks scoffs. “Well I knew that one.”

Goten snickers and he curls his fingers with Trunks’. Trunks rolls over to face him, and the red tips of their noses nearly touch. Goten sighs and tightens his grip. Trunks’ cheeks are bare and brushed with red from the cold. His hat is sliding off of his head, exposing his lavender hair, twinkling with the crystal-white snow. The eyes that stared back at him seemed unreal. Goten didn’t want to sound corny—like he was in a cheesy romance novel, or gods forbid, a _fanfiction_ —but there was no other way to describe it: he could _genuinely_ see the stars glittered in Trunks’ bright cerulean eyes, along with the crystalline snow.

Trunks looked so good in the snow.

“Don’t call me cheesy,” Trunks spoke as he gestured with his hand. “But your eyes are so dark, that it looks like they’re the night-sky, with the stars all over them... Gods that came out _so_ cheesy.” Trunks says with an embarrassed laugh, as he covers his face with his hand.

Goten chuckles. “It was cute coming from you. I want to say that yours look like a twinkly blue galaxy, but _that_ would be cheesy.”

“You’re right it would.” Trunks takes Goten’s hand back, snuggles closer, and closes his eyes. “Can we stop the corny complimenting now?”

Goten hums in agreement. He snuggles closer as well, and closes his eyes. Trunks’ body is warm against his, and Goten doesn’t think he can get enough of it.

He lets out a content sigh. He wishes that they could just stay like this: just the two of them, so close that the cold can’t break through. Both of them so far away from their problems that they might as well not even exist. Goten doesn’t want to think about anything else; only this moment, where there are no worries, no avoided conversations, no fighting, no one else. Just them; no words needed, hardly anything needed. Only the light that Goten’s favorite star patterns brought, and the warmth that their closeness brings him. 


	28. Scarves

#28- Scarves

Word Count: 1719

* * *

Goten stuffs his cold hands into his pockets as he walks along. The plaza was rather crowded today—damn after Christmas sales—but Goten decided not to let it bother him. He had woken up with a bit of a sour mood, but he had promised Marron he’d buy her a proper birthday gift when he got the money. He didn’t want to spoil Marron’s mood by his bad one, but he just could help but feel like something wasn’t... right.

“Goten!” He hears Trunks exclaim as a hand tugs roughly on the sleeve of his shirt.

He stumbles, hitting his toe on the pole he was about to run face first into. “Ow! What the fuck, Trunks?”

Trunks arches his brow as he releases his grip. “My apologies, but I figured you’d snap at me even more if I let you run into it.”

Goten exhales and the frown drops from his face. “I’m sorry. Thanks.”

Trunks fixes his scarlet scarf into a more comfortable position and gives him a look. “What’s the matter? You’ve been like this since this morning.”

Marron’s curious eyes are on him now. Goten sighs, and stuffs his hands back into his pockets. “I don’t know, I just feel... off.”

“Off?” Trunks and Marron say almost simultaneously.

“Yeah, I... I don’t know how to explain it, I’m just... I don’t know.”

Trunks’ eyes are still studying him. Goten nearly squirms under the scrutiny. “Is it because we’re here? You normally love the WST plaza.”

That was true. Also, with Goten still having mixed emotion about the mall, this was his automatic first destination of choice. But ever since they pulled into the parking lot, he just felt... uneasy.

“Well, let’s just run into _Hot Topic_ , and we can leave,” Marron offers.

“Eat,” Trunks corrects with a frown, rubbing his belly. “My mom decided to skip out on breakfast this morning.”

Marron giggled and curled her arm around Goten’s. “Alright, we’ll leave _after_ we feed Trunks.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Goten says, as he wraps his free arm around Trunks’ shoulders. He bites back his bad attitude and bad feeling, and lets the two of them drag him along.

XXX

A band t-shirt, a quick look through a shoe store, seven sodas, and eight and a half pizzas later, Goten found himself sitting on a picnic table outside. He had complained that it was too damn cold to eat outside, but he really didn’t have much of a say against the words of both Marron and Trunks. So, munching on his final slice of pizza, he kept quiet and waited until the two of them finished.

Grabbing his soda, he sucks on the straw until the cup is empty. He wants more though, and he looks on the table for an unfinished one. When he notices one of Trunks’ unguarded cups, he almost discreetly reaches out to grab it, when he stops himself. Trunks isn’t even paying attention; his head is turned to focus behind him, the slice of pizza in his hand remaining uneaten. His lavender brows are narrowed, but Goten can still see the nervousness in his blue eyes.

“You okay?” he taps Trunks’ thigh.

Trunks blinks and whips to look at him. He seems as though he wants to say something, when he shakes his head.

“What’s the point?” he mutters almost angrily as he turns away from Goten.

Goten is confused, but Trunks doesn’t elaborate. Goten turns to look behind him instead, and lets his eyes sweep over the mass of people.

It doesn’t take long to find him. How could it? He’s impossible to miss; just sitting there, with the same two little boys next to him. His shaggy dark hair is nearly hidden by his hat, and his slanted, bright green eyes are focused on a cellphone in his hand.

Goten thinks if it’s physically possible, his blood might actually be boiling. It’s been years since he was ever this angry; not even _Cayon_ made him this mad. He can’t think of much at the moment: just that he needs to keep his super saiyan ability under control, and how badly he wants to injure the asshole that choose the _wrong_ day to go shopping.

He swings his legs out from the picnic bench with clenches his fist as he stands to his feet. He suspects that his stomping might be leaving cracks in the concrete, but he doesn’t care enough to check. All he cares about is giving a certain someone a piece of mind.

His motion catches Akeno’s attention. His bright eyes widen for second and he scrambles to his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest, cocks his knee, and narrows his brows as he approaches.

Goten gets close and grabs the front Akeno’s coat in his fist. Green-eyes widen once more in surprise, as he grits out, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Akeno grabs Goten’s wrist, and shoves it away from him. He frowns and tips his head, because he only comes to about Goten’s nose. There are a few strangers watching him, and Goten can sense Trunks and Marron coming to stand behind him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“You _know_ what my fucking problem is,” Goten nearly snarls.

Akeno arches his brow. “Is it those pictures? Oh please, Son, grow up.”

Goten bares his teeth. “I think I could say the same to you.”

Akeno’s arms go back to cross over his chest again. “I grew up the day I stepped on a plane and flew to Oxford University. Can’t say the same about you, it seems.”

“At least I don’t stalk people and harrass them on the internet.”

There’s a glint of amusement in Akeno’s eyes. “I wouldn’t call it harrassing; I’d call it ‘the truth’. I’m just telling it as I see it.”

Goten’s brow twitches. “Well, you’re _going_ to stop, right now.”

There’s a bored look on his face. “What are you going to do? _Tattle_ on me? How dramatic. I’m not hurting anyone; everyone knows their just a bunch of jokes. Shouldn’t you of all people be able handle a bit of crude humor?”

But he is hurting someone, and Goten wants to make that known. He opens his mouth to protest, when Akeno raises his hand to cut him off. “Save it, I already know you’re not going to touch me, because if you were, you would have done so by now. I’m not scared of you, and I’m not scared of your slut either. I’ve got more important things to do with my time than to stand here and have you try to intimidate me. If there’s nothing else you’ve...”

Goten doesn’t hear anymore words after that. Akeno is right, because Goten _did_ make a promise a while ago that he wouldn’t touch him. Goten’s already found a loophole though, which he idly thinks is quite smart of him. In the back of his mind, he knows that Trunks meant not to harm Akeno in any form, but Goten can’t find it in himself to care. All he can think about is Trunks yelling at him in his bedroom months ago, Trunks in the hospital telling him of all the awful things that were said to him, Trunks tangled up in houselights with a somber look on his face, Trunks fighting with him in Marron’s bedroom, Trunks covered in wrapping paper with apologies on his tongue, Trunks sleeping next to him with Cayon’s words in his ear, Trunks being so _hurt_ and Goten unable to do anything to make it right.

He could do something now, though. He couldn’t, wouldn’t just let this slide. He loved Trunks too much, and his emotions were too hard to fight. His love’s wishes be damned.

Goten spins around. Trunks is looking past him with brows narrowed, face furiously red, fist painfully clenched, blue eyes murderous, and mouth moving as though he’s going to say something. Goten ignores this, and grabs the end of Trunks’ scarf. He yanks the material from his neck, and twists it in the air faster than the untrained eye can see. When the material is twisted tight, he spins back around. Before anyone can hope to stop him, he whips his arm, slapping the tough end of the scarf against Akeno’s face with a loud _smack_.

The green-eyed boy stumbles and cries out, his hand immediately flying to hold his abused cheek. When he moves his hands away, a long, furious brush burn is revealed, nearly bleeding in some spots. Satisfaction washes over Goten like a wave. Not even punching Cayon in the face— _twice_ —felt this good.

Goten turned around to look behind him. Marron’s mouth was wide open, and her shoulders shook, like she kind of wants to laugh but also gasp in horror. There were people pointing and staring in awe, but Goten didn’t care. Ignoring everything else, he focused on his boyfriend.

Trunks neck was slightly discolored where the scarf used to be, but Goten was certain it wasn’t painful. His face was no longer red, and was back to its tan color, but Goten couldn’t find it in himself to be joyful about that. Trunks was watching him now: his brows were narrowed, his fists still clenched, his blue eyes unreadable.

Goten doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing, and only stares back at him.

Goten remains quiet as Trunks steps toward him. Their eye contact doesn’t break as the scarf is snatched from his grip. Trunks remains there for a second longer, before he turns and walks off. Marron shoots Goten a worried and almost sympathetic look, before she hesitantly follows behind him.

Goten is in trouble—he figured he would be—and he doesn’t know how feels about that. He’s still so _angry_ , and he can’t find it in himself to care that Trunks is upset. Goten doesn’t feel like what he’d done was wrong, and if Trunks would just get over himself he would thank him for it.

(He knew Trunks well enough to know that Trunks would _never_ thank him for this, but it’s nice to pretend so.)

Goten doesn’t look behind him—Akeno might already be gone for all he knows—as he follows after his two companions.


	29. Black Ice

****#29- Black Ice

Word Count: 1416

* * *

The silence was painful.

The isolation was worse.

Trunks wouldn’t even so much as look at him. He only kept his eyes forward as they sped down the empty mountain road in his new car. Trunks’ teeth chomped on the chewing gum in his mouth aggressively, while his free hand curled a strand of his hair. The car was cold, never mind that the heater was turned on, and the silence was deafening, despite the music pulsing from Marron’s earphones. Goten liked to think that the girl didn’t even notice the tense atmosphere, but that was only wishful thinking. Most likely she was using the music to disconnect herself from the situation going on around her. Goten envied her. 

Goten wasn’t sure how he felt about the silent treatment. He had no idea what was or wasn’t going through Trunks’ head, and he didn’t like it. There were so many different scenarios playing out in Goten’s mind, and he didn’t like a single one of them. He knew they needed to talk, no matter how badly he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to argue, but it was too late for that. He was certainly angry enough to handle a shouting match. He couldn’t find it in himself  _ not _ to be angry with Trunks. Goten  _ helped _ him, and Trunks had the audacity to make  _ him _ out to be the bad guy? That didn’t goad well with Goten, and he was going to fix that right now.

“Trunks—” he begins, but he’s immediately cut off.

Trunks’ eyes stay on the road as one of his hands leaves the wheel to halt Goten’s words. “Please leave me alone.”

Goten grits his teeth. “No.”

Trunks’ hand goes back to the wheel. “Of course not. Well out with it then. What is so important that you’ve got to say?”

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means, Goten.” Trunks’ fingers tighten around his curled hair.

Goten huffs with frustration. "Stop pulling your hair." 

"Don't tell me what to do, Goten!" Trunks shouts suddenly, his blue eyes filled with a furious fire, before they turn back to the road.

Goten narrows his brows. He only just managed not to jump back in surprise. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“You know exactly what my fucking problem is!”

Goten crosses his arms. “No I don’t think I do, because as far as I’m concerned, what I did was right.”

Trunks pops his gum. “Obviously, because every decision you make is the right one.  _ My _ decisions don’t goad well with yours? Screw it, just do whatever the fuck you want, because you’re always  _ right _ .”

Goten stares at Trunks with anger and incredulousness. “ _ What _ ?”

Trunks’ shoots him a side look. “Don’t even do that, Goten. You know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

Goten’s hands tighten on the fabric of his own coat. “You think me giving Akeno what he  _ deserved, _ was me doing what the fuck I want?”

“Yes, Goten, that’s exactly what it was!”

“No, it’s w—”

“Yes, it was, dammit!” Trunks whips his head to glare at Goten, his hand clenching tightly to the wheel. He then shakes his head and focuses back on the road. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Goten’s angry, so he slaps his hand against the dashboard. “I don’t care, Trunks! I don’t  _ fucking _ care! You never want to talk about anything; it’s always ‘later’. Well, it’s ‘later’ now, Trunks!”

“You just proved my fucking point! Do you have any idea how  _ annoying _ it is that you just ignore everything I say to you?”

“What are you even—?”

“Of course, you don’t know what I’m talking about, how surprising. How about we  _ recap _ then, since you want to sit there and act like I’m crazy,” with his free hand, Trunks ticks off with his fingers. “I asked you to leave me alone, so that I can calm down and keep from saying something I’ll  _ regret _ , but of course, you couldn’t care less. I asked you not to fly out in the middle of a fucking  _ blizzard _ , for  _ your _ safety, Goten, and of course, you do it anyway. I ask you to leave Akeno the fuck  _ alone _ , but I guess you couldn’t do that either, could you? Your possessive instinct too hard to fight, I assume?”

Goten looks at him with disbelief, because he’s being  _ so _ unfair. “This was different! I had to do some—”

“You didn’t  _ have _ to do anything!” Trunks’ hand beat against the wheel. “I never  _ asked _ you to ride in with your white horse and armor and save me, like I don’t know how to handle myself. I don’t  _ care _ what you thought was right. It’s not your responsibility to run around beating up everyone who doesn’t kiss the ground I walk on because you don’t like it!”

“I guess it is my responsibility, since you won’t do it yourself! You go on and on about how you don’t need me and can take care of yourself, and yet you’re doing a piss-poor job of showing it.”

Trunks gapes at him. “So, I don’t handle my problems like a  _ lunatic _ and suddenly I’m helpless, is that it? Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t go around punching everyone’s face in because I don’t  _ want _ to? Has ever gone through your one-tracked mind that I don’t always need to get ‘even’ or always have my ‘revenge’? That maybe I don’t want to let little shit like mean pictures dictate my life? It’s called maturity, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that!”

“So now I’m immature for sticking up for you?” Goten feeling stung. 

“ _ Yes _ ! Did I not just say that? Sorry for not falling to my knees and praising you for embarrassing me and unnecessarily getting Akeno’s skin all over my scarf when I specifically asked you not too!”

“Trunks, you aren’t even making se—”

“I’m making complete sense! I don’t care what you thought was right—I don’t even care if what you did  _ was _ right! I  _ asked _ you to let it go. You wonder why I keep things from you, then turn around and do things like this! Do you really not see how constantly ignoring what I want  _ pisses _ me off?”

Goten scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Alright, I slapped a guy who was posting disrespectful pictures of you, and that ultimately turns around to  _ me _ disrespecting  _ you. _ ”

“Exactly, Goten! You’ve known me your entire fucking life, and I have always done everything I could to treat  _ you _ right and yet you can’t do the same for me! I deserve better than whatever is happening right now, Goten!”

“So what are you saying?!” Goten growls.

“I don’t know what I’m saying! All I know is that I’m tired of arguing with you over and over again about the same thing, and nothing changing! I can’t keep going through this with you! I’m tired of being upset, and I’m tired of making  _ you _ upset. So, can we just drop this conversation before we end up—  _ fuck _ !”

“What are you doing?!” Goten shouts, his hands immediately gripping the dashboard as the car swerved.

“I’m not doing anything!” Trunks shoots back as he furiously spins the wheel. He stomps on the brakes, but the tires refuse to listen, and continued to slide down the vacant, icy road at over seventy miles per hour.

“Guys!” Marron says, her hands gripping on the back of the driver seat, utterly terrified. She looks like she’s about to speak again, when another lurch sends her sliding to the other end of the backseat. She shrieks when she collides with the door.

When Goten looks over, he sees that Trunks has let go of the wheel entirely. Goten is even more confused, when he sees Trunks’ body snapping his seatbelt as he spun in his chair. He’s moving in almost slow motion by the time that Goten realizes that he’s leaping towards the backseat, probably trying to get to Marron. Goten figures that he too should probably exit the car, when Trunks’ retreating foot hits the wheel, causing the car to lurch again and his head to smack against something hard, presumably the door.

Goten groans and grabs his skull, thinking idly that the impact has probably left a very large dent on Trunks’ car. The pain is almost unbearable, and Goten’s vision is quickly clouded by black spots. The pain doesn’t last long however, because the black spots have gotten so large that Goten can’t see anything else. 

Seconds later, he’s unconscious.

_ TBC _


	30. Black Ice II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Android 17 appears in this drabble. I wrote this story before Dragon Ball Super gave him a backstory, so his cameo shall remain.

#30- Black Ice II

Word Count: 2065

* * *

When Goten wakes up, there is a bright light shining directly in his face. Once he’s used to it, he looks over and blinks at the doctor fiddling with the desk next to his bedside. He was tall with straight, dark hair, and when he turned his face, Goten saw that he had icy blue, angular eyes.

Goten tilts his head. “You look... Are you related to—?”

“18? Yes, I am. Small world, huh?” The android says with a bit of a smirk.

“I guess so. You’re... a doctor?” Goten doesn’t know why he’s surprised, it’s not like he knows the man, or anything. He just goes by what he’s heard of him.

“Four years of university and four years of medical school will do that to you.”

“Oh, uh... alright then. So what hap—hey! Where are you going?” Goten calls after the retreating android.

17 stops in the doorway, and says over his shoulder, “May be hard to believe, but I’ve got other things to do, and you’ve got people here.” Then he’s gone, closing the door behind him.

Goten blinks. He is alone in the room for only a moment, when the door is being thrown back open.

“Trunks,” Goten says.

Trunks exhales with no small amount of relief and closes the door behind him. He’s nibbling on his lip as he crosses the room. “Hey.”

Goten doesn’t take his eyes off of Trunks as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “Is Marron okay?” he asks.

Trunks nods. “Oh yeah, she’s fine; just a scrape on the shoulder. I’m pretty sure she’s off somewhere, bothering 17.” Trunks pulled his coat off and set it on the empty chair next to them. “He said that you probably have a small concussion, but aside from those scratches on your cheek, you’re fine. I didn’t call your mom, but if you wanted me to I—”

Goten waved him off. “No, I don’t want to worry her.”

“Okay.” And then they are silent.

Goten used his hands to lift himself into a more comfortable position, but stopped when he felt an intense soreness. Looking over, he saw that he had bruises from his shoulders to his armpits.

“What happened here?” Goten asks.

“Oh.” Trunks averts his gaze as his hand goes to rub self-consciously at the back of his neck. “I didn’t notice until I got Marron out that you were still in the car. I kind of panicked, and well... grabbed you a little tighter than necessary when I pulled you out. That’s, uh, why you’ve got the cuts on your cheeks. They’re from the window glass.”

“Oh,” Goten says. A few seconds later, he starts to giggle.

“What?” Trunks frowns at him, looking slightly concerned.

“Nothing just—” Goten takes a deep breathe to hold in his giggles, knowing he must look completely insane. “I was just thinking about how we _really_ aren’t handling these seasons well. I mean, you with that heatwave, and me with icy roads. What’s next? Us both getting attacked by a swarm of bees in spring?”

Trunks rolls his eyes but cracks a smile. “If anyone is getting attacked by a swarm of bees, it would be you. Seems fitting: your relationship with the woodland creatures coming back to bite you in the ass.”

Goten laughs. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Trunks’ face abruptly fell. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

“Trunks it’s not your—”

“It is,” he insists. “ _I_ was driving the car. I should’ve known that the roads would be icy. If I had been paying better attention, none of this would have happened. You could have been really hurt.”

“Look, I didn’t notice the road was icy either, so if we’re placing blame then I’m right up there with you. Besides, all I’ve got is a bump on the head and a couple scratches. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but still,” Trunks mutters. Goten is rather sure there is nothing else he can say to ease Trunks’ conscience, so he doesn’t.

They are quiet again.

Goten scoots over the opposite side of the bed. Trunks—taking the hint—moves to lie down next to him. Their shoulders are pressed together, but Goten can’t help but feel like they are so very far away from each other.

He remembers when it had been so easy to know what Trunks wanted. Trunks had always been defensive, but Goten still _knew_ him. Now, Goten feels like he hardly ever knows what Trunks is thinking. That really scares him. What if Trunks was thinking that their relationship wasn’t worth it? What if he thought they’d be better off ending it, before it got any worse?

Even thinking those things scare Goten, but he doesn’t banish them away. The time for avoiding was gone. There is nowhere else to run, and it would be better to prepared for whatever outcome was ahead of him, no matter how much he knew it would hurt.

When Goten finally can’t stand how quiet the room is, he forces himself to ask, "Do you not want to be with me anymore?"

Trunks is quiet, and a sick feeling settles in Goten's abdomen. He doesn't know what else to say, but he looks over anyway. He pauses, because Trunks' eyes are squeezed tight, as are his fists. Goten bites his lip, because he feels a knot forming in his throat.

Goten looks down at the bracelet around Trunks’ wrist and he remembers so _much_. He remembers flying through fireworks, and watching the sunset, and eating ice pops, and catching fireflies, and sitting in the rain. He remembers snowball fights, and wild snowboard rides, and scary skiing, and kissing in the snow, and singing together, and warm fireplaces, and watching the dark sky.

Oh, the stars had been so beautiful that night. He wants so desperately to be able to go back to that moment underneath the stars, when it was just them and nothing else, no other thoughts than each other.

The emotions he had felt during those times, the love had experienced, was so _real_. They’re both in too deep; they can never go back, and Goten doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want these things to become just fond memories. He wants to always have moments like these, to give special places in his heart for them and never let them go.

He can’t pretend their problems are gone but he _can_ fight them. There is more than enough fire left in him for that.

“I’ve never been with someone that was worth keeping,” Goten says honestly.

Trunks stares at him, stupefied. “Worth keeping?” he says.

“Worth keeping.” Goten nods. “I want us to work this out.”

“Can we?” Trunks sighs, and his voice sounds so heartbreakingly defeated. “There’s always going to be another problem, we’re always going to keep fighting, we’ve already _broken up_ before, and if we keep going like this, we are going to break up again. I _hated_ those three days we weren’t together. It hurt so _badly_. I don’t want to go through that again, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“We have to try harder then, Trunks.”

“How much harder can we try?”

Goten pretends he hadn’t heard that question. He slides his hand over to curl their fingers together. “Just tell me everything you want me to know. Tell me what you want me to do. I promise I’ll listen.”

Trunks looks over at him. It’s a moment before he replies, “You have to stop treating me like I can’t take care of myself. If I ask you something, I want you to respect that, and quit running off like you always have to save my day. I want you to... I want you to stop treating me like I’m some prize you have to protect. I hate that, Goten. I know you don’t mean to do it, but that’s what it feels like and I _hate_ it.”

Trunks takes a deep breath, like a weight has been lifted off of him. His eyes are steady when he looks back at him. “I want you to stop letting other people come between us. I want you to understand that I can handle people who don’t like me, but I _can’t_ handle it when you make everything worse. If you have a problem with my methods, then I want you to talk to me, don’t just go off and do whatever you want and expect me to be okay with it. I’m not going to budge on this so please stop doing it.”

Goten stares up at the crème-colored ceiling, processing what he’s been told. After a while, he nods his head.

Trunks grips their hands tighter. “And what do _you_ want?”

Goten’s eyes stay on the ceiling for a second longer, before he trails them down to meet his eyes. “I want you to stop being so defensive all the time. I want you to quit keeping secrets from me. I want you to _talk_ to me, and I promise to listen to you if you listen to _me_ too. I know that you can handle yourself, but I want you to know that you don’t _have_ to. I want you to know that there is nothing you have to prove or whatever, not to me. I want you to understand that no matter what’s going on, I’m always going to be here for you, and I’m not budging on _that_.

“I don’t want to constantly worry about what he can or can’t talk about,” he says, but he thinks this might be equally for the both of them. “I want to feel like every disagreement is going to be our last. I want to feel like we are making each other better, not tearing each other down. I just want us to be _together_ , but I can’t do that by myself.”

Trunks doesn’t say anything, but he knows that his words were heard.

Goten’s voice is soft as he says, “You never answered my question. Do you want to be with me? I’m willing to try, but are you?”

Trunks eyes are squeezed shut again, but his head nods fervently. “Yes, I want to try.”

All of the tension immediately dissipates from Goten’s body. He slumps back into the pillows. “Good.”

Trunks watches him for a moment. Then he says, “I still don’t like how you handled Akeno.”

“You’re not going to make me apologize to him, are you?”

Trunks actually contemplates it. “No, but seriously, don’t do it again.”

Goten breathes a sigh of relief. “I won’t.”

Trunks rolls over and presses his face against Goten’s neck. “We’re going to make this work.”

Goten nods, wrapping his arms around him. “Yeah, we are.”

“I love you,” Trunks says against his neck, pressing little kisses there as his hands roam up Goten’s side.

“I love you too,” Goten says, but he’s pretty sure that Trunks isn’t listening to him. The other boy’s lips are brushing against his neck and his jaw and his ear and cheek, and his knee nudges between Goten’s legs.

“I love you. I love you _so_ much,” he hears Trunks say. Warm hands run up his pale chest and lips move against his own. Goten relaxes as Trunks tongue swirls around his mouth, relinquishing all control so he can simply enjoy the attention. There was nothing he loved more than having Trunks writhing beneath him, but this was a welcome change as well.

“Mr. Brief, I’m going to have to ask you to stop manhandling my patient.”

Trunks’ hand—which was trailing ever so discreetly past Goten’s waistline—disappears in a flash as he jumps to his feet with a yelp. His face is a furious pink as he awkwardly apologizes.

17 barks with laughter, as does Marron, who is peering over his shoulder. Goten, with flustered cheeks, awkwardly laughs as well. Sitting up, he trails his eyes over towards Trunks. Despite the other boy’s attention being elsewhere, and the intensely awkward atmosphere of the room, Goten couldn’t help but grin like a fool. Goten figured that it didn’t matter what they went through. It didn’t matter what happened tomorrow, or any other day. They were strong enough to get through it, and weren’t ever letting each other go again.

Goten figured that was enough of a reason to smile.


	31. New Years Eve

#31- New Year’s Eve

Word Count: 2517

* * *

“Why do I have to wear this?” Trunks inspects the blindfold in his hand. It was New Year’s Eve, also known as: their anniversary. Goten had already bid farewell to the rest of his family before the lot of them left for a get-together at Capsule Corporations for the evening. As much as Goten knew his mother wanted him there, it was understood that it was their anniversary—their first at that—so she didn’t protest too much.

“Because, this is a surprise, obviously,” Goten replies as he takes the blindfold back. He wraps it over Trunks’ eyes, and knots it in the back.

Trunks grumbles. “I’m not carrying you.”

“Of course not,” Goten says as he maneuvers the straps of his backpack onto Trunks’ shoulders. “This is a _big_ surprise, which mean _I’m_ carrying _you_.”

“... I don’t consent to that either. If you just guide me, why can’t I fly on my own?”

“Because there’s no fun in that. Now get on.”

Trunks exhales roughly, as he hops onto Goten’s back. The Son shifts his hands to hold him up by his knees. “Besides, I wouldn’t want you running into bricks disguised as clouds, or anything.”

If he could have, Trunks would’ve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Goten, because that just happens _all_ the time.”

Goten chuckles. “You’d be surprised. Hold on.”

Trunks arms tighten around his neck and Goten kicks off the ground. When he is in the air, he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his cellphone. He checks the GPS—as if he _ever_ knows where he’s going—and sets off in the desired direction. The air is cold and hard as it whips against his face, but he ignores it, because he knows the discomfort will be worth it later.

XXX

Goten had to walk a bit to get to their destination, since he couldn’t just drop out of the sky into a crowd of people. He is receiving a few strange looks, which is understandable given that he is carrying a fully grown, blindfolded dude on his back, but Goten is not deterred. He knows he’s weird.

Waking up today made everything feel like some sort of bad dream. On the same day that Goten landed himself in the hospital, Bulma had coincidently discovered the online photos herself. Being the richest woman in the world, with many sources all over the web, Goten was honestly surprised that it had taken her so long. As it were, Bulma was not the least bit pleased about the photos (and there were lots, far more than Goten cared to look at), and promptly took matters into her own hands, any one else’s opinions be damned. She had filed a police report, and Trunks hadn’t had the strength to fight her about it.

Goten thinks that Trunks is secretly gladdened by her actions. Trunks may not want Goten fighting his battles, but not even someone as “mature” as him knew how nice it was to simply rely on your parents to take care of everything and know that it would all be okay.

Other than that, they did not talk much about him. Goten figured he could let their lack of communication on this particular subject slide. What more was there to say? What’s done is done, and the only thing they can do at this point is the one thing Trunks kept trying to tell him: move on.

“Alright, we’re here,” Goten says as he halts his step.

Trunks slides off his back, and stumbles to get his footing right. “Okay, what’s the surprise?”

Goten smiles, and walks behind him. He presses close, and unties the knot on the blindfold. Trunks blinks to adjust his vision. His eyes then widen, because on each side of him are fences, completely covered with locks.

His jaw drops. “We’re at...”

“The ‘ _Pont Des Arts_ ’ bridge?” Goten says with a grin.

Trunks whips around to look at him, gaping. “How did you know...?”

Goten mocks offense. “How did I know that you wanted to come here for our anniversary? Please, Trunks, I may suck at French, but I don’t suck _that_ bad. And you don’t have to be embarrassed, I _do_ think it’s cute.”

Trunks looks like want to roll his eyes but can’t quite manage it. He gives him a sweet smile and leans in for a kiss. “Thank you.”

“Reach into the side pocket on my backpack,” Goten says when they part.

Trunks fiddles around in it. “Is this what we brought it for?”

“Partially.”

Trunks arches his brow. “What else is it for?”

“You’ll see in a minute. Did you get it?”

“Yeah,” Trunks says, as he pulls out the lock. It’s deep red in color and in the shape of a heart, with the key stuck in the keyhole. When Trunks looks on the back, he sees written in fine-tip sharpie:

_To Our First December, Our First Year, and Many Others to Come._

_December 31 st, Age 784_

_SG x TB_

Trunks grins giddily and pulls out the key. “I want to do it.” He doesn’t wait for Goten to reply and starts to scan the fence for an empty spot. When he finds one, he hooks the lock on, and latches it.

He then hands the key to Goten. The Son smiles, rears his hand back, and launches the key into the icy water below.

Trunks, still smiling wide, checks his watch. “There’s ten minutes to midnight.”

“That’s perfect,” Goten states. He abruptly spins Trunks around, so he can fish through his backpack. “Remember that day I was caught in the blizzard?”

“Yeah,” Trunks grumbles. “How could I forget?”

Goten grins sheepishly. “Right, well, there was actually another reason I was out there. I had to find something.”

“Find what?”

“This,” Goten says and holds out his hand. In the center of his palm is a round, unidentifiable thing wrapped in a thick cloth. Trunks arches his brow, but at Goten’s nod he dutifully unravels the cloth.

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Where in the hell did you get an uncut _diamond_?!”

Goten grins and answers, “In a cave.” It was big, and not all that pretty—it was uncut after all—but Goten knew how to fix that.

“We are going to break it.”

Trunks looks at him, puzzled. “Break it?”

“Yeah, if we do it together, it should be no problem.” Goten clenched the diamond in his fist, and held it over the water.

Trunks looks over at the other people on the bridge. When he sees that no one is paying attention, he gripped the part of the rock that Goten’s hand didn’t cover. Goten counted down from three, and then they both squeezed, hard.

The diamond shattered like ash off a cigarette underneath the pressure of their hands. The shards fell in a rain of glitter into the water below, and Goten quickly reached out with his free hand to grab one of the scraps before it too disappeared. It was round like a terribly bumpy sphere and just bigger than the size of his thumb. It didn’t quite look like the diamonds one would buy at a store, but it was a far cry better than the dirty rock it looked like just a moment ago. Even still, it wasn’t special enough. He had to make sure that there was no other diamond like this one in the whole world.

Improvising—and praying it would work—he pressed his fingertip against the stone. Concentrating, and hoping he wouldn’t just destroy the damn thing, he zapped the smallest bit of Ki he could. Thankfully, the bright yellow energy didn’t destroy it, but rather became trapped inside, it’s light shining dimly through the diamond.

“Whoa, totally didn’t think that would work! You do it now, Trunks.”

Trunks looked transfixed at the diamond. “Alright.”

Trunks had better Ki control than him and zapped his Ki through the diamond with more ease. Their energy molded together into one, and the light shined and glittered like a beacon before them.

“That’s... that’s amazing,” Trunks said.

Goten smiled, and buzzing with nerves, pointed in the opposite direction. “I think that guy just saw us.”

“ _What_?” Trunks whips around, darting his eyes back and forth. He cocks his brow in confusion. “What guy are you talking about?”

When Trunks eventually gives up the search, he turns back around. He has to look down, however, because Goten is down on one knee, with the shiny diamond extended towards him.

Goten can feel the strangers’ around them looking at him, and he fights to keep his nerve. “Okay, you probably know what I’m doing.”

Trunks gaped for a second. “But... but I live half of the year in the United States. And you’re... not even a legal adult yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Goten says as his heart pounds. This is not going quite like the proposal do on TV. “I’m not saying we have to do this _right_ away—I doubt my mom would allow that anyway. I just figured, since I’m gonna ask eventually, why not now? I’ve known you my entire life, and I already know there’s no one else I want to be with, and I love you. I know it’s the same for you too, so what do you say, Vegeta Trunks Brief? Will you marry me?”

Goten knows without a shadow of a doubt that no one in the world has a more beautiful smile than Trunks. It’s warm like a fire and bright like the sun, and Goten can’t imagine his life without it.

“Yeah,” Trunks says. “I’ll marry you.”

Goten doesn’t really have a ring to put on his finger, so he just stands to his feet and wraps his arms tightly around him. He registers clapping in the background, but he barely notices. All he cares about are Trunks’ arms that hug him tight, and the warm lips that are pressed against his own.

When their lips part, Trunks says, “I love you.”

Goten’s face is buried in Trunks’ neck. “You love me?”

“Yeah.” Trunks nods. “I do.”

“Well that’s good, because I love you too.”

Trunks chuckles against him, and Goten treasures it.

A thought occurs to him. “Hey Trunks, I think diamond is big enough that we can turn it into two separate rings. How cool would that be?”

“I think that sounds good,” Trunks says as he pulls away from the embrace. “Alright, I’ve got you show you my gift now. You definitely should’ve let me go first, you asshole. Mine is going to seem so lame now.”

Goten just grins. “Now I’m even more excited to see what it is.”

Trunks huffs as he digs around in his pocket. He pulls out a small box, complete with a tiny bow on the top.

Goten opens the box. Inside is a sleek black and silver watch, with digital bright blue numbers displaying the time. It looks vaguely familiar.

“Now, you can always count the seconds,” Trunks tells him.

He’s confused for several seconds, when it hits him. He remembers the that day so long ago, right before the summer started. It was the last day of his junior year when he tried to count down the exact second the final bell would ring, and Trunks had _cheated_ with this watch. It was a different watch of course, but it was clearly the same model, and Goten felt it spoke the message quite clearly.

“Wow,” Goten says, still completely stunned at the gift. “This is like, super thoughtful.”

Trunks looks pleased with himself. “That’s not all. Touch the glass.”

Goten does as he’s told. When his fingertip touches the screen, everything, including the time, fade away. Then, the entire face of the watch glows bright blue, and a paragraph of black words is revealed.

 _I don't know how long I'll live, but I know that every second will be worth a lifetime because it will be spent with you. I love you more than I did yesterday, but not more than I will tomorrow. I'll love you every day and I'll love you all my life. If ever you forget, look here and remember that I’m_ yours _and you’re_ mine _and together we are_ timeless _._

Goten doesn’t know how he manages to look away from the words, but he does. Trunks’ wrist is held up and through the edges of his bracelet he can see just barely see the same blue light peeking through from the inside.

“So, I stole your gift idea and modified it a bit,” Trunks says, looking rather nervous. “I linked our gifts together. I made it so if you touch the glass or I touch the clasp, both of our messages will glow, no matter how far apart we are. I hope you don’t mind. I just, well, I thought it’d be nice to always have a reminder at hand if I need it, and you’ll always know when I’m thinking of you, and uh, vice versa—”

Trunks cuts himself off, his face growing mildly horrified because tears are filling Goten’s eyes.

The twin tears fall, and Trunks’ panic is almost laughable. “Oh fuck, please tell me those are happy tears.”

Goten nods, but he can’t say anything else. Trunks hesitantly holds out and arms and Goten dives into them, holding him as tight as he possibly can as he cries into his shoulder.

“Come on, you don’t have to be such a baby about it,” Trunks says, his voice fond as he rubs soothingly at his back.

“Shut up,” he sniffles. “I am not. I love you. Gods, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, babe.”

Goten jerks back, his eyes wide and smile elated. Trunks looks like he swallowed something sour. “You called me ‘babe’!”

“On accident!” he protests. “It slipped out, and it’ll never happen again.”

“To say ‘it slipped out’ implies that you were thinking about it.”

“Your annoying behavior _implies_ that you want your butt kicked. Not exactly how I’d start off our engagement but I’m adaptable.”

Goten is about to reply with something undoubtedly both clever and witty, when loud shouting cuts him off. He pumps his fist in the air and joins in with the countdown. They had both gone through a lot this past year, and Goten really can’t believe it’s over. Goten won’t lie; this was probably the best year of his life, and he’s sad to see it go. He’s excited though, because he’s ready to start another year, hopefully just as great as the last. He’s eager to make new memories, especially with the one by his side.

Once everyone has shouted ‘ _Happy New Year!_ ’, Goten of course, jumps to get his New Year kiss. As he basks in the arms wrapped tightly around him and the soft lips dancing against his own, he can’t help but think he’s ready for a new beginning. _They_ are ready for a new beginning.

No matter what it will bring for them, he knows they’re both ready for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you too DBZgirl95 who inspired the idea of the proposal! I hope you guys have a wonder New Year! I love you guys!


End file.
